Sustaining What You Built
by lynne z
Summary: Goren & Eames investigate the murder of a high profile couple, while events are set into motion that will change both of their careers and lives. This is my "how they could leave" story. Set awhile after Frame; AU, could become a series. Pls R
1. Chapter 1

Sustaining What You Built

Chapter 1

Adults and kids, ranging from their terrible twos to their teens, filled the small deck and backyard, occupying lawn chairs as they ate burgers or dogs. Sunday afternoons were often like this at Alex's sister's place in Staten Island. The amount of people sometimes varied, but the noise and activity level didn't seem to change much. The kids who did make it usually just overcompensated for their missing cousins. Alex tried to be there as often as possible, as did her parents, and today both of her brothers had made it as well, bringing with them her two sister-in-laws and seven kids respectively.

Alex sat in a lawn chair in the yard with a few of her younger nieces and her nephew sitting around her with plates on their laps. She enjoyed the chattering of their little voices as they teased and picked at each other in between bites, often too big for their little mouths. For her it was the same as the quiet for some people (or like the library for her partner) – it cleared her head, made all the bad things she saw everyday a little less daunting.

She was pulled away from the kids when she heard the rattle of a lawn chair being dragged across the grass and then found her sister, Liz, making herself comfortable next to her. She was quiet at first, eating her burger and occasionally wiping a messy hand or mouth of one of the near-by kids. Alex knew it wouldn't last long.

As kids they never got along that well. Liz was their parents' last surprise and very much the little princess who stayed close to her mother. Alex, on the other hand, was sandwiched between two brothers and spent half her time racing to keep up with her older one and the other half looking out for the younger one. She was the child her parents had worried least about because she always seemed so capable, unwilling to be pushed around by anyone.

It wasn't until after she was older, after she became a widow that her family began to worry. It wasn't until then that her independence seemed less like resilience and more like a wall. That was when she and her sister became close, after many of her friends lost touch with her because of their uncertainty as to how to handle a young widow.

"Why are you ignoring Jeff?" Liz asked.

And there it was – Jeff, the nice divorcee who worked at the hospital with her brother-in-law, and who her sister decided to invite to their Sunday lunch specifically for Alex. He was handsome, tall and lanky, but not broad like her partner. His coloring was light like Joe's, even though his eyes seemed browner like hers. She kind of felt sorry for the guy as he unsteadily maneuvered around all the strangers and answered questions whenever one of her not so shy brothers started chatting him up.

"Why do you insist on introducing me to every single man you meet?"

"Hey, I cherry pick the good ones."

Alex couldn't help but snort. She had lost count of the number of times her sister had tried to set her up since the birth of her nephew. She guessed Liz felt like she owed it to her – to help facilitate a happy life just as Alex had helped her by birthing her son. They hadn't directly talked much about the surrogacy after it was over. There wasn't much need to. They had been to the therapy sessions during and neither had to voice the joy they felt for the other or how much they both ached for the parts they missed out on. They were both acutely aware of them.

"I'm just not looking for a relationship."

"Who cares about a relationship? Just go on a date for God sakes. You haven't been on a date in, what, two years?" Liz asked. "Not since that sign language guy, right? And I didn't even find out about him until after you broke it off."

"There was nothing to break off. We only went on a few dates…"

"And why was that, exactly?"

"Because…because he…it just wasn't what I wanted."

"Do you even know what you want?"

She wasn't really sure if she knew. The two people she could see herself wanting had been buried for ten years or just came with more complications than she was sure she could deal with. Neither were exactly viable options.

"I'm sure you think you do," Alex said.

"Yeah, but you think it's not an option so why bother pushing."

Alex snorted. _Who's she trying to fool? She lives to push. _Liz was probably the only person who knew Alex could feel more for her partner if she let herself. Not that Alex had told her as such or would ever fully admit it, but Liz knew her sister's tells probably even better than Bobby did.

"I just don't have the time—"

"Make time. I just want to see you happy."

"Who says I'm not happy? Not everyone has to have the husband, the kid, and the pretty house in the 'burbs to be happy."

Liz huffed.

"I didn't mean that you couldn't be…I know you love your job, but I just hate the idea of it being your life."

"It's not. I have you guys…I have friends…"

She knew it was a partial lie. Ten years ago she expected her life to be very different at this point and now her job (and maybe her partner as well) had taken the place of what she once thought she'd have.

Alex saw her sister ready to speak again and then found herself thankful for the ringing coming from her pocket. She pulled out her cell phone from her jeans and immediately answered once she saw it was the captain. He informed her of a double murder in the East Village and how he would send a squad car to pick her up from the ferry.

"Okay. Yes, that'd be fine. I'll head out now."

She flipped the phone closed and glanced back at her sister.

"Another great escape, huh?" Liz muttered.

"Sorry…"

"Yeah," Liz said, disappointment heavy in her tone.

Alex huffed, contemplating the idea of dating. The idea of Jeff, of Bobby, of moving on from the life she thought she'd have. It was well past time to, she knew, but a part of her still clutched to it like a ledge.

"Fine, if you want to organize a double date I'll go, but nothing fancy…drinks maybe. And don't make him think it's more than it is."

"Deal," Liz said and extended her hand.

Alex rolled her eyes and shook her sister's hand, feeling like she was sixteen again – trading chores for not being ratted out. She knelt down to hug her nephew and then said quick goodbyes as she hurried to catch the ferry.

XXXX

Bobby was already there, hovering over the bodies of Stephen and Josephine Bartlett when Alex arrived at the scene. She could hear the local detective saying how it looked like a robbery gone wrong as she approached the alley right next to a busy theater. The bodies laid – his slightly on top of hers – just at the opening, obviously surprised as they headed back to their home in Greenwich.

She noticed Bobby give a small shake of his head, ready to dismiss the younger detective, and seemingly unaware of her arrival. They almost always knew when the other was around – after nine years she knew how the air changed when he was around or the sound of his footsteps coming around the corner (heavy and slightly unbalanced). On one hand they were like an old married couple, willing to push the other or call the other out when need be, but also willing to protect the other through just about anything. But in some ways it was like they were still getting to know each other, because neither could deny how the last few years had changed them both and worn on their partnership.

"But they left her jewelry?" she heard Bobby ask. "I mean this ring on her finger is probably worth more than what ever was in her purse."

"They got interrupted…it's not exactly a secluded area," the young detective shot back with her hands on her hips.

"Yeah…" he said, not really convinced.

"Look, I got my guys canvassing the area to see if the perp might have dumped her purse near by and their taking witness statements…it's probably going to take awhile, you know considering a whole brigade of people were leaving the theater."

Alex watched Bobby nod and kneel next to the bodies.

"Let us know what you find," Bobby said absently.

The local detective walked off as Alex took her place near her partner.

"So murder gone good?" she asked.

He glanced up at her with a small smirk and a jerky nod. She knew he remembered the quip, but he immediately went back to business and gestured to the jewelry and watches still on the bodies as he rattled off about how they were specifically targeted.

Alex glanced over the bodies. He was tall and broad with dark skin, while she was nearly as tall, but fair with natural red hair and a boyish figure. She recognized both of them from the papers that covered their wedding a few months before, where the privileged daughter of a far left judge married the son of a black southern preacher.

"Looks like she took most of the hits," Alex said.

She knelt down on the opposite side of the bodies and pointed at the woman's stomach and chest. He nodded and began gesturing with his hands as he spoke again.

"He put himself in front of her…tried to protect her," Bobby said. "But then they shot him and he ended up trapping her underneath him…made it easy for them to finish her off."

"Pretty ballsy move shooting them right after a Sunday matinee."

"Impulsive, but not completely random. And look at the number of shots…the erratic aim…if he just wanted the purse, why take the time to do this much damage?"

Alex nodded in agreement and then glanced up at her partner.

"Well, with this couple we've got a tank full of possible motives."

Bobby nodded and then Alex followed his lead as he rose to his feet. He glanced back into the alley and pointed to a dumpster before heading towards it. Alex saw the small flannel shred that caught his attention on one of the sharp edges and the dark drips of blood that streaked it.

"He was in such a panic he ran into a dumpster?" Bobby muttered, almost amused, and then called for one of the CSU techs.

Alex listened as he talked to the CSU officer and then lead the way back to the opening of the alley. They saw the news vans gathering across the street and reporters in a string giving overviews on the murder and recapping the much publicized wedding.

"I have a SUV with me," Bobby said, pulling the keys from his pocket and shuffling on his feet. "Did you drive?"

"Uh, no. A squad car picked me up from the ferry."

He nodded and shuffled as if he wanted to say more.

"Well, we should get back. Ross said he'd get Judge Hawthorn and the Bartletts there for us to talk to," he said.

Alex nodded and held out her hand. He dropped the keys into her palm without hesitation and she gave him the faintest of smiles. She knew (as she was sure he did) they're feelings for each other were complex and maybe impossible to define, but recently she found herself contemplating them more and more – wanting to give definition to the space he's come to take up in her life. But she was still hesitant because she also knew how easily emotions could get mixed up – how they could disguise themselves as something they were not.

XXXX

Judge Hawthorne had spent his career ruffling feathers, particularly due to his stance on rehabilitation over the death penalty and had become known for his light sentences, particularly for first time offenders. He probably had more enemies with in his peers than with the people he helped put in jail. He was a thin man pushing sixty in khakis and a golf shirt and making a good show at holding his composure. His wife was less so and clutched tightly to her husband's arm with a Kleenex twisted between her free fingers. The Reverend and Mrs. Bartlett met some where in the middle, both with tight set jaws and tears stinging their eyes.

They had been in Ross' office for about thirty minutes as Bobby and Alex asked about their children's lives and tried to get a sense of how both sides felt about their marriage. The judge did most of the talking, while Mrs. Bartlett would occasionally cut in to confirm a detail concerning her son. The Reverend sat with his tears gradually turning to anger and his fists clutching the arms of his chair.

"They were happy…we all were very happy for them," Judge Hawthorne said. "It was the most beautiful…hopeful wedding—"

The reverend snorted.

"You call that circus a wedding…" the reverend muttered. "More like a platform for your _ideals_."

"Steve," whispered Mrs. Bartlett.

She tightened her hand on her husbands arm as the reverend tried to protest, but she just shushed him.

Alex shifted on her feet from where she leaned against Ross' desk, with Bobby and Ross flanking her on either side. She was certain their eyes had shifted to the Hawthornes as hers did, gauging the way the judge shifted slightly, hanging his head, but otherwise didn't react.

"Judge, can you think of anyone who might try to hurt you through Josephine?" Alex asked. "Have you received any threats?"

Hawthorne slightly shrugged and stared off as he thought.

"I've received a couple…letters from this one gun nut…I've been working on a proposal for new gun control reform…and there's been the occasional raciest rhetoric left in our mailbox since the wedding."

"Do you still have any of them?" Alex asked.

"I think so."

"We'll need you to get us copies."

"Of course, I can have my secretary fax them to you as soon as we get back."

Alex looked up at Bobby, looking to see if he was ready for the Hawthornes to leave. She knew him well enough to know that he wanted the Bartletts alone for a few minutes. He gave a slight nod and Alex looked toward the captain.

"Judge, Mrs. Hawthorne, we appreciate you coming in," Ross said. "The officer outside will take you home."

The Reverend and his wife rose as well, but Bobby held up his hand.

"We're still waiting on another officer to pick you up…so, please…sit," Bobby said.

The captain ushered out the Hawthornes, leaving the Bartletts to Alex and Bobby. The Bartletts huffed and retook their seats, while Bobby turned one of the free chairs toward the couple and sat, leaning toward them.

"You don't like Judge Hawthorne very much, do you Reverend?" Bobby asked.

The Reverend took in a deep breath and then replied, "I…I feel he is…misguided."

"Were you okay with your son marrying Josephine?" Alex asked.

"Don't get me wrong, detectives, I liked Joey…in many ways she was very good for Stephen…"

He paused glancing down at his lap and took in a shuddering breath.

"But you didn't think they knew what they were getting themselves into," Bobby said.

The Reverend shook his head.

"The Hawthornes are idealists…they only see the world they want to see. The Judge used their marriage as proof of his…_vision_. And he does love his press clippings…probably more than his daughter's safety. So, no, I know they had no idea what they were getting into."

The captain reappeared at the door with a uniformed officer behind him and thanked the Barletts before showing them out. Alex watched him closed the door and make his way back to the desk as she sat next to Bobby.

"All the news stations are already saying hate crime, what are we saying?" Ross asked.

"Well, the way Reverend Bartlett makes it sound, Hawthorne might as well have drawn a bulls-eye on them with all the press over their wedding," Alex said.

"It's still early to rule anything out," Bobby said. "It feels very…personal."

Ross swiped a hand over his forehead as he hovered behind his desk.

"You always think it's personal," Ross muttered. "Work on seeing if there are any other possibilities. Rodgers said she'd have the autopsies done in the morning…so find what you can. The witness statements should be coming in soon, see if there's anything there. There's got to be a descent description in there somewhere."

Both detectives nodded and then Bobby rose to head toward the door. Alex followed.

"Eames, stay a minute."

Alex tossed a look over her shoulder to Ross and then looked up at her partner's questioning gaze. She couldn't blame him for being a little paranoid about Ross conspiring with her or his frustration over being excluded, but she also saw concern. She gave a slight shrug and then he continued moving out into the squad room.

"Yes, captain?"

"Close the door."

She huffed, but did as he asked.

"I was going to wait until Monday, but since we're all here…I had a meeting with the chief and Captain Petrillo—"

"Petrillo? From vice?" she interrupted.

She watched Ross nod and remembered Pertrillo as the lead detective in the Vice unit she worked before MCS.

"She and I are helping to organize a new sex trafficking task force…both of us will be making recommendations from our squads for someone to run it. You're my top choice."

Her mouth hung open as she tried to summon up a response, flattery and uneasiness battling for supremacy.

"I appreciated that, but I have a job."

He sighed and didn't sound surprised, but a little disappointed. He rounded his desk and moved in front of her. She couldn't help but wonder if Bobby was watching.

"Eames, I've always respected your loyalty, but eventually you're going to have to think of yourself…of your career first."

"I am."

She knew she was being more defiant than certain.

"At least think about it. I have till Friday to give the chief my recommendations. Don't tell me 'no' until then."

Alex glanced at the floor, partly knowing he was right and that in the beginning she hadn't seen herself staying at MCS forever. Not that she was eager to play the political game or leave too much of the dirty work behind, but in the academy she had imagined having her own squad – a tight knit vice squad or some other small unit where she could still be slightly on the fringe, but make a modest name for herself. She finally looked up and nodded.

"I'll think about it."

He nodded and stared her down.

"I mean it. Really consider it."

She gave him one last nod and left the office. She let out a deep breath as she approached her desk and felt Bobby's eyes catch and follow her form as she seated herself across from him. She couldn't take his scrutiny right now – there were too many desires and fears forming in the pit of her stomach.

"What was that about?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"Nothing," Alex said. "Looks like someone dropped off Josephine and Stephen's LUDS."

She held up the papers, hoping to distract him, but could see the worry in the corners of his eyes. He took the paper and carried on as if he wasn't thinking about her meeting with Ross. Though she knew it was there in the back of his mind as they spent the rest of the day sifting through witness statements and Judge Hawthorne's hate mail.


	2. Chapter 2

Sustaining What You Built

Chapter 2

Things were better. They were getting better or at least he thought they were. So why did she avoid his question yesterday? What could have the captain told her that would have put her defenses up? It was her typical M.O. whenever things got too personal for her or when she was faced with something she didn't want to think about, but he couldn't think of anything that would be bothering her. At least he was certain there wasn't anything with this case or with him, but maybe with her family then or repercussions from the Mulroney case.

"You seem distracted this morning. More than usual I mean."

Bobby glanced up at Olivet, who he had vaguely heard talking across from him. He had taken a month off after Declan was arrested and when he got back he went to her to pick up the therapy they had started during his suspension. He knew he probably never should have stopped in the first place, but he wouldn't be forced into it again; plus, at the time he felt getting back to work equaled out to him being fine. That had proven to be a convenient lie after everything with Declan and Nicole and Frank, but in reality he had been far from fine.

Before he came back for this second time, he had even contemplated just picking up and leaving -- starting over some place new; someplace unburdened by all of his old ghosts. He had gone as far as having a lengthy phone conversation while in Michigan with an old army buddy working in Quantico. The offer was tempting, but he wasn't ready to leave – wasn't ready to concede defeat; wasn't ready to leave Eames with no warning, not without knowing they could be okay again. And it had been getting better. The recent months were the first in a long line where he felt like he wasn't drowning and really clicking again with his partner, who had become both a necessity and a distraction.

"Sorry…I…it's just a new case we got called in on yesterday," he said.

She leaned forward, resting her elbow on her crossed legs, and shifted her yellow notepad in her lap. He still wasn't at ease with being scrutinized by her (or anyone, really), but he respected her. He had met many psychiatrists through out his life and she was one of the most empathetic and sincere. Maybe it was from her experience counseling children or working with various cops.

"I've seen you distracted by cases…there's something more here," Olivet said.

He shifted in his seat and silently damned her perceptiveness. She had never outright said anything about it, but he was sure she recognized his feelings for Eames. He had stopped denying those years ago, but did his best not to let them show. It was rather tiring.

"Are things still going well with Detective Eames?" Olivet asked.

He nodded and replied with a soft, "yeah."

"I remember you mentioned a few weeks ago some things from her past came up during an investigation. Have you talked at all about that?"

"A little. But that's not the problem—"

"But something is wrong?"

_Shit._ He huffed, feeling tricked and cornered.

"I…I don't know. All I know is she had a private meeting with the captain and she doesn't want to tell me about it."

"And that worries you."

He sat back and rubbed his hand down his face. How could it not worry him?

"Of course it worries me."

"Do you trust her?"

"Yes."

It almost sounded like a question, uncertain if it was really the right answer. Of course he trusted her. He had to believe that he trusted her; even if a part of him wasn't certain if he was really capable of trusting anyone.

"Then why can't you believe that she will come to you when she's ready to?"

He didn't know how to answer that. Eames was the closest he had gotten to truly trusting someone, but there was always a small fear of that trust being betrayed. It was a little voice nagging at him, telling him eventually the bottom would fall out because it always did. Not that Eames had given him any reason to doubt her or think she wouldn't come to him once she felt she could. He knew she trusted him, despite every reason he'd given her not to.

"I want to believe that."

"If you want her to be open with you, then you have to be open with her."

Olivet never told him anything that he didn't already know – it was common sense and common human behavior – you get back what you give to a person. But he wondered what she wasn't saying; if she was all but telling him to pursue an intimate relationship with his partner because if he wanted to be truly open with her he'd eventually have to admit his feelings to her and the un-partner like thoughts he had about her.

The thought made his mind turn the corner into a memory of kissing her several years ago (_God, nearly five now_), not long after her return from maternity leave. They had to go out of town to interview a witness, but had most of an afternoon and night to kill before their interview the following morning, so they went to the bar in their hotel. They traded war stories – hers from her days at the academy and his from his time in Germany with their drinks keeping up with their number of stories.

Some how their knees had ended up touching and they both were leaning close against the bar, she listening with an amused smile and he went on about a prank one of squad mates had pulled off. The next thing he knew he was kissing her (he swore he could still taste the vermouth and vodka on her lips) and for a second she responded, but then pulled back. She gave him some teasing, dodging, remark akin to, "I think you're trying to get me drunk, detective." They both knew she was still vulnerable from her surrogacy, so she excused herself to go up to her room and they never mentioned it again.

"Give it time," Olivet said, jerking him out of his thoughts. "If it's really something important she'll tell you."

He gave a nod and glanced up at the ornate clock on her cream colored wall, grateful time was about up. He needed air; he needed time to process…everything – his partner, her place in his life, his feelings for her, his fear of holding her back and not just professionally.

"I have to get to work," he said.

He rose from his seat collecting his binder and she rose as well.

"Thank you for meeting so early," he said.

"Years of counseling cops, I'm used to odd hours," she said. "I'll see you in two weeks."

Bobby nodded and ushered himself out the door.

XXXX

Bobby made it in before Alex despite his morning session. The witness statements were still in several piles across his desk from where he left them when he finally went home last night. There was a single pile on Alex's desk of ones they had cherry picked to come in to sit with a sketch artist later that morning. They each gave a similar description of a thin, lanky man in his early twenties with dark fuzz where his hair was beginning to grow out. He wore a baggy dark flannel jacket and jeans. It was vague, but the best lead they had so far.

They had talked to some of the people they found in connection to the Judge's hate mail, but so far hadn't found anyone matching the shooters description. Plus the letter writers all had alibis for Sunday afternoon.

He settled into his chair and cleaned up the scattered piles. Then he heard the click of her heels coming into the bullpen and a few seconds later saw her arm, covered in her favorite blue sweater, reaching out to place a coffee on his desk.

"Thanks," he said. "You didn't have to."

He watched her settle at her desk, surprised by the coffee and curious as to why she bought it. Maybe she was feeling guilty for dodging him yesterday.

"I was going anyway. Plus, I figured you wouldn't have time to stop with your session this morning."

He smiled a little at her practicality.

"Well, thank you."

"You're welcome," she said, meeting his gaze. "You all right?"

"Yeah," he said.

It had been a long time since he answered that and really meant it, really believed it. She smiled a little and looked back down at the papers on her desk, seemingly at ease with his answer.

"It's helping," he said.

Her eyes darted back up to him, with interest and a bit of surprise. He hadn't talked to her much about his sessions with Olivet, or really at all. Recently, they stuck to talking about work – it was safe and easy, where as the rest was too complicated and sometimes painful for one or the other. Occasionally something would slip, but it was always instigated by a case they were working – never volunteered just because.

"The sessions, they're helping," he said.

She nodded and seemed…relieved.

"I'm glad—"

Her voice was cut off by the beep of her cell phone, alerting her to a text message. She pulled her phone from her pocket and read the message.

"It's Rodgers. She has the bodies ready."

"Let's go."

He was already up from his chair before she could nod, but he waited for her to catch up. After nine years she had gotten very good at keeping up with him, anticipating him, and it's something he knew he took for granted, but something he never meant to.

Bobby followed her through the morgue doors to Rodgers' lab where they found Stephen and Josephine's bodies on cold slabs lined side by side. A part of him still felt a little embarrassed around Rodgers, but she hadn't brought up his outburst six months ago, so he didn't either.

"Detectives," Rodgers said.

Her scowl was deep set and her brow crinkled as she hovered at the head of the slabs with two files in her hands, which she willingly passed to Bobby as he and Eames took their posts by either body. The wounds were clearer now as they looked over them. He had three gunshot wounds – one through the left shoulder, one in the chest, and one on the left side of his abdomen, while she had two to the chest and three centralized near her lower abdomen.

"What can you tell us?" Alex asked, standing over Josephine.

"The first shot went straight through his heart. He died instantly…but she bleed out before the ambulance got there…the one bullet punctured her lung and that's all she wrote."

"Any slugs in the bodies?" Bobby asked.

She nodded.

"Two from a nine mil," Rodgers said. "CSU already has them and is working to see if they can find any matches."

"Anything else?" Alex asked.

Rodgers shifted her weight, huffing out a sigh, while her eyes showed a hint of sadness.

"Well, it might interest you to know that Ms. Bartlett was six weeks pregnant," Rodgers said.

Bobby glanced at Eames, seeing the same sadness in her features that he felt, and then shifted his gaze down to the body next to her.

"Well, he knew. The shooter, he knew she was pregnant." he said, his palm hovering over her battered stomach. "The families didn't seem to know."

Alex nodded.

"At six weeks her doctor's probably the only other one who would know," Alex said.

"This is looking more like jealous rage…an ex-boyfriend maybe, or someone enamored with her based on what they saw in the media…" he said.

"Maybe someone who happens to work at her OB's office," Alex said.

"Or got himself in the office to learn more about them."

He watched Alex nod her agreement. Bobby and Alex nodded their thanks and then made their way back upstairs.

XXXX

The Women's Complete Care Center was a small, but well funded practice in Brooklyn with three doctors, all women, who handled everything from primary care to obstetrics. It generally catered to middle to lower middle class women, so a patient like Josephine Bartlett not only brought in new patients, but new money, some from Judge Hawthorne himself.

The reception and waiting area were welcoming with warm colors on the walls and a small area with bright colors for kids to play. There were several women sitting in the thinly cushioned maroon chairs and two expecting couples, one of whom had one other commonality with the Bartletts – they were an interracial couple.

The woman was small in stature, but Bobby guessed she was about five to six months along. She had creamy chocolate skin, though her facial features appeared to be of Asian decent. She sat calmly with one hand resting on her stomach and the other resting on her partner's wrist. He was obviously less calm with one knee bobbing up and down and his fingers tapping against the metal arm of the chair. He was white with an average build and dark hair and goatee. He briefly caught Bobby's gaze, but quickly looked away, tugging on the sleeves of his long sleeve T-shirt.

Bobby turned his attention back to Eames, as she talked to the receptionist, Gladys, who had been with the clinic for the whole ten years it existed. Gladys passed a print out of their employees to Alex, along with a separate page of ones recently let go. Eames looked over the lists, while Bobby pulled the composite sketch out of his binder.

"Do you recognize him? Maybe someone who was asking around about Josephine Bartlett?" he asked.

Gladys' eyes glanced over the sketch and shook her head, while saying a soft spoken, "sorry."

"Anyone on this list stick out to you?" Alex asked. "Anyone who took a special interest in Josephine?"

"Not that I can think of."

He heard Alex sigh and he shifted, leaning a little further against the counter.

"Anyone out of the ordinary?" Bobby asked.

He watched Gladys' eyes shift upward, referencing and pulling memories stored in her head.

"Well, there's Kelly Donovan…she just blew up one day…a couple weeks ago. She stormed out and never came back."

"What was her job?" Alex asked.

"She was a file clerk…we got her from a temp agency."

"You don't know what set her off?" Bobby asked.

Gladys shrugged and fiddled with the pearls around her neck.

"No, she came over to drop off some records to me, looked out into the waiting room, cursed and ran out," she said. "I wish we could do more to help. We were happy for Josephine…they had been trying for a while to get pregnant. They were very excited."

Bobby nodded and cut his eyes toward Eames, who sighed in response.

"Can you get us a copy of Kelly's work schedule over those last two weeks?" Alex asked. "And a list of the scheduled appointments for those days."

"Of course."

They watched Gladys turn to her computer and listened to the click of the mouse and keyboard as she pulled up what they requested.

"Chelsea Riley."

Bobby whipped his head over his shoulder at the sound of the nurse calling the name and saw the couple he watched earlier get up. Again the man briefly met his gaze, but quickly turned his attention back to his wife and gently guided her with his fingers brushing against the small of her back.

By the time Bobby turned back to Alex, she already had the papers in her hand and was looking over them. He watched her closely as she briefly nodded.

"Here," she said. "Josephine had an appointment on Kelly's last day. So our jealous rager is a woman?"

He caught her gaze as she looked up at him and gave her a small nod.

"Or someone who egged him on," Bobby said and then turned his attention to Gladys. "What else can you tell us about Kelly?"

"There's not much to tell. She's a beautiful woman, but gruff…she liked to pick arguments with some of the staff…particularly Lucia, the office administrator…"

"Lucia, she's Hispanic?" Bobby asked.

"Dominican," Gladys said and then lowered her voice. "Kelly didn't seem very fond of…people of color."

"Okay, thank you," Bobby said.

He turned toward the main entrance and looked back to make sure Alex was with him. She was at his side as they reach the street and didn't speak until they started walking the block back to the SUV.

"So, maybe we are looking at a hate crime." Alex said.

"It could be a bit of both," Bobby said. "For some reason, Kelly set this into motion, whether knowingly or not."

Alex nodded.

"Well, let's go ask her."

He gave her a nod as they continued walking and thought about what they would find in Kelly Donovan. There had to be a more personal connection than just a random sighting at a doctor's office. Kelly had to have some connection to them in order to have that sort of reaction – a tantrum really, like an enraged child. They could have known each other before Josephine met Stephen. Maybe there was something in Josephine's past that her father didn't know about, something that would have involved her with someone like Kelly Donovan.

The buzz of Alex's cell phone disturbed his thoughts and he turned his neck to watch her answer it.

"Hey," she answered, signaling it had to be a relative and not the captain or anyone from work. "Tonight?"

Her tone was slightly exasperated and disbelieving.

"I know I agreed, Liz, but—" he listened to her huff as she paused as her sister went on about whatever she was going on about. "Okay, okay. Fine. I'll do my best to get there…I'll probably be late though. All right. Bye."

She shoved her phone back into her pocket and just continued walking with her eyes forward.

"Everything all right with your sister?" he asked.

She glanced up at him as if she was a little surprised to find him there, lost in some thought that he knew she wouldn't completely let him in on.

"Yeah…she's just meddling," she said with a shrug.

Meddling by Alex's sister usually added up to a date with someone Liz had met.

"Is it a blind date?" he asked.

She faltered for half a second and the met his gaze.

"I met him yesterday…barely…" she said.

He nodded and looked away from her. He was sure he was probably a nice guy, a stable guy, whose baggage probably wasn't as heavy as his.

"It's just drinks," she said suddenly, forcing him to look back at her. "It can't hurt, right?"

He nodded, even though it did kind of hurt. He knew he had no right to feel jealous and typically as long as it was out of his sight then it was out of his mind, but whenever he was confronted with how easily someone else could take her away he couldn't help but feel it flare.

"Yeah."


	3. Chapter 3

Sustaining What You Built

Chapter 3

Kelly Donovan was beautiful with pale skin and dark hair with the slightest wave and bounce to it. Alex figured her as the type of woman her partner would have chased after ten or twenty years ago – just judging from how he subtlety checked out the way her narrow waist tapered out into round hips and long legs. She opened the door to her small one room apartment wearing a form fitting tank top and jeans, with one hand on her hip and her already full lips pursed in annoyance.

"Kelly Donovan?" Alex asked, holding up her badge. "I'm Detective Eames and this is Detective Goren. We need to ask you a few questions—"

"If this is about the fliers I left at the courthouse, you can forget it. I was well with in my rights—"

"This isn't about fliers," Bobby said.

Alex heard a soft laugh on the last word and recognized it easily – he was hoping he could flirt his way inside her apartment.

"We just need to talk to you about your old job at the Complete Care Center," Bobby said.

"I quit like two weeks ago, so I don't see how I can help you."

Kelly pushed the door closed, but Bobby stepped up, placing his body in the way.

"I think you can," Bobby said.

"See, one of their patients was murdered yesterday afternoon, along with her husband, Josephine and Stephen Bartlett," Alex said.

Kelly shrugged and shifted her eyes from Alex and back to Bobby.

"Yeah, so?"

She didn't even bat at an eye at the news. Her face remained neutral, cold, as if it was inevitable. Alex had to bite at her cheek to not lash out at the woman's callousness.

"You've heard about the murders," Bobby said.

"Who hasn't?" Kelly asked.

"And you did know them…the Bartletts?"

"Everyone who worked at that damn clinic knew them. They treated her like a God because of all the business she brought in," Kelly said. "It was disgusting."

"Did you know either of them outside of the clinic?" Alex asked.

Kelly scoffed and crossed her arms as she leaned against the door frame looking bored.

"Why would I? I really could care less about Josephine Bartlett—"

"But you were disapproving," Bobby said. "Of her marriage…of having a black man's child."

"Disapproving? I thought it was an abomination…doesn't mean I pulled the trigger," she said.

She pushed harder against the door and Bobby moved, but kept his palm spread against the door.

"You can leave now," she said.

Bobby nodded, but held up his hand.

"Just one last thing, why did you leave the clinic so…abruptly?" he asked. "I mean something must have really upset you."

Her shoulders dropped slightly and she shifted on her feet, trying to play it off. Alex watched Kelly recover quickly as she searched for a reasonable answer.

"I…I had an argument with my boss. You can ask anyone there we fought all the time…I was sick of taking orders from that bitch," she said. "Can you leave now?"

"Sure."

Bobby had barely gotten the word out before Kelly slammed the door shut and the locks were engaged. Alex glanced up at Bobby, before starting back down the hall.

"Well, she's lovely," Alex said. "She didn't even blink when we brought up the Bartletts."

He nodded, following her towards the stairwell.

"Yeah, but she lied about why she left the clinic," Bobby said.

"Now that question rattled her."

"There's got to be another connection here…"

Alex sighed because she was starting to doubt if Kelly Donovan had anything to do with the murder. Her willingness to contradict Bobby was one thing that made their partnership work and was something she felt he had come to depend on, despite how he hated being wrong.

"It could just be a coincidence," Alex said.

She watched him as he shook his head and then met his eyes as he looked down at her. He was quiet for a second too long and she caught something in his face that she didn't want to see, that she wasn't prepared to see – longing. He shuffled his feet and shook his head again, though she wasn't sure if he was disagreeing with her or dislodging a thought.

"I don't think it is," he said. "We're just not looking at it right."

She nodded reluctantly, but was willing to ride out this theory with him, trusting that if he thought something was there then it meant there probably was.

She led the way down to the SUV and climbed into the driver's seat to head back to One PP. In the passenger's seat, Bobby spread his binder out across his lap and jotted down whatever was going on in his head. She considered it an improvement from his silent, staring out the window stance that he kept as they had driven to Kelly's apartment.

She was surprised, though thankful, for the fact he hadn't questioned her again about her meeting with the captain. She had spent most of the night thinking about his offer and now was feeling the lack of sleep catch up with her. In the back of her mind, she knew she was going to take it, but she couldn't voice it yet. She couldn't fully admit it yet. Somewhere over the last nine years she had gotten attached and in that attachment there was safety and security, even as fucked up as it may be.

XXXX

It was getting late and Alex's eyes stung from staring at her computer screen for the better part of the evening as she and Bobby researched Kelly Donovan, trying to link her to their shooter (granted they could actually find the shooter). They had also personally re-interviewed the witnesses who had come in earlier to meet with the sketch artist. It was a quarter after eight and all Alex wanted to do was go home and fall into bed.

"Why don't you go ahead and head out?"

She looked up across the desks to Bobby, who watched her and fiddled with the pencil between his fingers.

"I know you have the…the thing with your sister."

Alex nodded, but wondered what was really going on in that head of his.

"I'll just finish this one thing up," she said.

He nodded and went back to the papers covering his desk. She did the same until she felt the captain hovering over their desks

"I got to go up and give the chief an update," Ross said. "Please tell me the day hasn't been a complete waste. What have you found on this Kelly Donovan?"

"She doesn't have a record, but I've found a couple boyfriends with robbery beefs...all immigrant owned stores," Alex said. "But their nearly a decade old…done back when they were kids."

"She has been active in white power organizations, distributing…literature. It wouldn't have been hard for her to find someone willing to do this shooting," Bobby said.

"With no real motive, except to send a message," Ross muttered.

Another detective handed a fax to Alex. It was a DNA match from the bloody flannel on the dumpster.

"It looks like we just might have gotten lucky," Alex said.

She passed the print out across to Bobby, who read over it.

"Jason Riley," Bobby said. "Riley…"

Alex watched him as he absently scratched his temple, knowing he was processing some connection, something he read to something he saw or vice versa. From the corner of her eye she saw Ross pull up a chair and then straddle it, with a slightly opened mouth.

"He's not related to Derrick Riley, is he?" Ross asked.

Alex turned to her laptop and entered in Jason Riley, pulling up his long rap sheet of petty theft and a couple of assault charges. His last known was an apartment in the Bronx with his mother and then she found a notation about his brother, Derrick. Alex turned and nodded to the captain as she pulled up Derrick's record.

"They're brothers. Ten years ago, Derrick was convicted on a manslaughter charge. He was released on parole four years ago. Seems to have laid low since then," Alex said.

"He should have been charged with murder," Ross said. "He was the suspected ringleader in a string of neo-nazi assaults and vandalism before he got arrested."

Alex's attention left Ross as they both turned to the rustling of papers as Bobby searched out the particular print out he was looking for. He finally found it and scanned through it, while Alex saw the captain's attention come back to her.

"Riley killed a black kid who was trying to steal his car…he beat him to death in the street," Ross said. "His father had been killed two years earlier…so the judge felt sorry for him. Passed him off as a messed up kid…gave him a break."

"Oh, please tell me it was Hawthorne," Alex said.

Ross almost smirked.

"No, Reynolds, a friend of Hawthorne's—"

"Chelsea Riley," Bobby said.

Alex met his gaze as he held up the print out she had received from Gladys earlier.

"She had an appointment the day Kelly left….they were the couple there this afternoon."

Alex smirked, easily making the connection he was hinting at – Chelsea Riley and her apparently reformed husband, Derrick, were the couple at the clinic earlier.

"Well, I guess rehabilitation can work wonders," she said.

"Well, it did for him at least," Bobby said.

"What am I missing here?" Ross said.

Bobby filled Ross in on the couple they saw at the clinic, while Alex continued to look over Derrick's information, finding his PO's name. She wondered if it was really possible for someone to change so much.

"Okay, see what you can get from their PO's. Try to get a location on Jason and see what information you can get out of Derrick…and get some rest," Ross said, and the walked off to head upstairs.

"I wonder if he cares what order we do all that in," Alex muttered.

She rubbed her eyes and then rolled her neck.

"You go," he said softly. "I can call the PO's and fill you in tomorrow."

She half wondered if he was trying to get rid of her. He could be so hot and cold with her – one minute trying to share with her and the next pushing her back at arm's length. She nodded anyway and began shutting down her computer because the sooner she got to the bar, the sooner she could get out of it and home to her bed.

"So, where do you think the Bartletts fit in? If it was Riley that set Kelly off, then they were just…"

"Practice," Bobby offered. "A substitute, maybe."

She nodded and scratched her forehead, saddened even more by the blatant senselessness of the act.

"Ten years ago, Kelly probably ran in the same circles as Derrick, they could have been friends," Bobby said.

"You don't give that much of a reaction over an old friend," Alex said.

Bobby nodded.

"They were probably lovers...she saw them there, then got in touch with Jason."

"And he takes it out on another couple Kelly casually mentions to him," she finished.

"Well, it would be hard for him to kill his brother. Just from the little we've found out, it looks like he followed his brother's beliefs…he probably looked up to him. Derrick was his father figure…he would feel…betrayed knowing Derrick turned his back on those beliefs."

She nodded her head and then gathered her bag and jacket.

"Don't stay here all night," she said and then left him to keep working.

XXXX

Alex knew her sister worked fast when she had a plan. She had always been the planner in the family, taking it upon herself to tweak their mother's chore schedule when they were kids, or helping with Alex's wedding and later her own. Now she planned school functions where Nathan just started kindergarten and the Eames family gatherings. She was a good planner, but Alex was expecting a bit more warning about this "date." She wasn't really thinking of it as a date, but just drinks – drinks with her sister and brother-in-law and a guy who works with him. No big.

The three of them were already there in a back booth, looking quite a few drinks ahead of Alex and laughing at some story Mark, her brother-in-law, had relayed from one of their harrowing nights at the ER. Mark and Liz were huddled into one side (purposely, Alex was sure), so that she would have to squeeze in with Jeff. She took a deep breath and made her way down the aisle to the booth.

"Hey! About time you got here," Liz said.

"I told you I'd probably be late," Alex said.

Alex settled herself in the booth next to Jeff, to whom she gave a small smile. He smiled and extended his hand to her.

"It's nice to meet you again," Jeff said.

His smile was sweet, inviting and his handshake firmer than she expected it to be. She bet he had a good bedside manner, confident but comforting. She returned the smile; though she knew hers wasn't as bright as his and more cautious.

"You too," she said.

She crossed her arms over the table and looked over her sister, who sat smiling and leaning into Mark, while the waitress came to take her drink order.

"So, big case?" Liz asked.

"Uh, yeah. We got the Bartlett shooting," Alex said.

"Oh, I saw the news reports on that, it looked pretty brutal," Jeff said.

"You should see it live and in color," Alex said.

Alex felt her sister's glare before she actually saw it, but only felt a little guilt at her tone. She didn't particularly want to be here and her sister knew it.

"Sorry," Alex said, looking at Jeff. "It's been a really long day."

"It's okay, I know how that goes."

"I guess being an ER doc, you see some pretty horrific things," Alex said.

"Yeah," Jeff said. "And some pretty idiotic things, too."

"You should talk to our M.E."

He snorted and gave a nod, while the waitress returned with their drinks.

"M.E.'s sometimes have the most idiotic stories," Jeff said. "I actually started off in the M.E.'s office, but it just wasn't for me."

Alex snorted, thinking of the kind of bedside manner Rodgers would have with real patients and the way her face morphed into a combination of anxiety and irritation whenever Bobby started touching things.

"I understand you come from a family of cops," Jeff said.

She looked over at him, forcing her head back to where her body actually was.

"Yeah. Dad was a cop, our older brother, mom's brother, both of our grandfathers," Alex said. "It's more of a shock when your like Liz and don't want to be a cop."

"Did you always want to be a cop?" Jeff asked.

Alex sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, I guess so," Alex asked.

"I wish I had been like that," Jeff said. "I went through so many phases my parents thought I'd be dead before I actually picked a profession."

A beat passed and Alex realized she should ask some engaging question – keep the ball in the air. God, she was too tired for this and had too many other things on her mind that were distracting her.

"What other things did you think about?" Liz asked, picking up the slack.

"Oh, man…"

Jeff leaned his head in one hand, recounting in his head.

"Well I really thought about being a vet when I was little, then a biology teacher…I've always been really fascinated by how the human body works…it's really a remarkable…machine."

"You really like your job, huh?" Alex asked.

"I love it. Jobs like ours…demanding jobs…you have to, don't you?" Jeff asked.

He looked directly into her eyes, with one corner of his mouth curving upward and Alex glanced down at the table. She did love her job. She loved Major Case – loved that she was able to make it there and hold her own with Bobby Goren, and she began to wonder if leaving was the right thing to do.

"Yeah, you do."

"Well, sorry to run out, but Mark and I are going to miss our curfew if we don't head back home," Liz said.

Liz began gathering her things as Mark slid out of the booth.

"Liz," Alex said.

"You should have gotten here sooner…let Jeff walk you to your car," Liz said.

Liz and Mark said their good-byes to Jeff, while Alex silently pleaded with Liz not to leave her, but all she got was a smirk. Then they were gone and things were very quiet. She didn't know what to say to this guy, so she finished off the martini she had ordered.

"Maybe you should walk me to my car," Jeff said in a lame attempt to make her laugh. "You know, since you're the one with the gun."

She forced a smile and glanced toward him, mirroring his stance by propping her head in her hand.

"Well, I don't actually have it on me," she said.

"I guess we're both screwed then."

She laughed a little, the first genuine laugh she'd had all day.

"You're sister's quite a force."

"You have no idea…"

"I know she kind of forced this on you, but maybe we can do something lower key sometime…coffee or something. Of course only to see if you're sister's as good a matchmaker as she thinks she is."

Alex smiled.

"So, on a strictly experimental basis," Alex said.

"Strictly."

He was inviting, seemed sweet. He kind of reminded her of Joe and she wondered if Liz saw it too – the bashful teasing from nerves, the warm, infectious smile, and the easy way he talked to people. But still she felt the uncertainty curling around her as if she was betraying someone. She just wasn't sure if it was Joe or Bobby.

"Well, I guess we're obligated by science, now," Alex said.

He smiled and she did her best to not let her reservations show.


	4. Chapter 4

Sustaining What You Built

Chapter 4

Bobby had always liked Salvatore's. It was close to his apartment, had good, authentic Italian, and beautiful waitresses. Not that he spent as much time flirting with them as he used to, since they seemed to keep getting younger, while he just got older. Now when he went he usually looked over his case notes while he waited for his veal parmesan or just got carry out instead. Tonight he wanted the distractions of the various chatter and bustling that filled the restaurant. He didn't want to leave himself time to wonder about Eames – about the "date" she was on, her meeting with the captain, or if she knew how he felt. She was a smart detective; she had to have some inkling even if she ignored it, just like he knew she could have feelings for him if she let herself.

So, he focused on the notes he had made during his calls to the Riley brothers respective parole officers. Jason had been AWOL for over four months with an outstanding warrant for violating parole. His mother had kicked him out a little over a year ago, after his latest assault charge on their super. He had been written off by his P.O. as a waste of good potential.

Derrick on the other hand had been a pretty model parolee, minus a temper he still struggled to keep in check at times. He had taken on a full time position at a Brooklyn community center, which was initially a condition of his parole, and it was where he met Chelsea, who he married just six months ago. His P.O. said he was well read, intelligent and would have gone far in life if he hadn't gotten lost in his father's ignorant ideas. It took a severe beating while in Rikers, by his own people, to make him rethink his views.

Sheila, a waitress with sleek brown hair, appeared at the edge of Bobby's small booth with a plate in hand. She smiled at him as he hurriedly shuffled the papers back into his binder to make room for the food. She had been at the restaurant for years and was part of the family who owned it. She was around Eames' age, but didn't look anything like her. She was taller and fuller and had a darker complexion. They had flirted for years.

"It's been a while since you've actually dined in," she said.

She placed the plate in front of him and he flashed a smile.

"Well, I guess I just needed a change of scenery."

Sheila leaned against the opposite side of the booth and wore a faint smile as she stared down at him. She was a beautiful woman and he knew she would move beyond innocent flirting if he wanted. Right now, he had to admit he was tempted if only for a brief distraction. Plus, as of late, the saying "slow at home" would be an understatement.

"I thought you might have come with the other cops tonight," she said.

He raised his brows and looked up at her with new interest.

"Uh…what other cops?" Bobby asked.

She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder toward the opposite back corner booth.

"Olivia Pertrillo and one of her detectives. She lives in the neighborhood like you…comes in every now and then."

"Captain Pertrillo?"

"Yeah. You know her?"

Bobby shook his head.

"Not really. Eames…my partner, they worked together."

"Funny, I heard them mention an Eames…"

Bobby glanced off to the side at nothing in particular, feeling a knot pull at his gut. He shifted his gaze trying to get a glimpse at Pertrillo and her dinner mate. Her detective was a woman and he assumed someone who had worked her way through the ranks in Pertrillo's Vice unit. Bobby turned his attention back to Sheila, who gave him a queer look – she had never really seen him as Detective Goren.

"What did they say about her?" Bobby asked.

Sheila shrugged.

"I mean, I wasn't hanging on their every word," she said and then leaned toward him a bit. "They aren't exactly my type."

"Just the gist then of what you over heard."

Sheila deflated and straightened, her voice curt once she spoke.

"Uh…something about some task force the detective is in the running to lead. Sounded like they were going over her top competition."

"Eames…" Bobby said, softly.

The pieces quickly fell together in his head – the other morning Ross was extending the offer to her, but what did she say? She said it was nothing, so maybe she just told him she wasn't interested and she just didn't see the point in mentioning it. Or she had said yes and she didn't know how to tell him. He knew she should take it, that she deserved it, but could he learn to function with a new partner again? Nine years they had worked side by side and he had gotten to the point where he wasn't sure if he could see anyone else there; if he wanted anyone else there.

The rip of paper turned his attention back to Sheila as she placed his check on the table.

"Let me know if you need anything else," she said.

Her tone clearly said not to need anything else and Bobby watched as she walked off, still thinking about Eames. _So much for a distraction_.

XXXX

He didn't know what to say to her the next morning when she came into the bullpen. She noticed, of course. He kept replaying what Olivet had told him yesterday morning – that she will come to him once she's ready, but he felt the pull to question her, to pull whatever information he could with whatever subtle (or not so subtle) questions he could come up with. But she wasn't some laymen – she would know what he was doing because she always did and she would resent it.

Her reactions from the Quinn case and the Mulroney case were forefront in his mind when he thought about confronting her, but still he had a hard time stopping himself. It was what he did and sometimes he couldn't help but fall back on it when he wanted something from the people in his personal life. But he didn't really think it was the questions she resented, but the fact he had pushed her away for so long, had kept her at such a distance, and things from her. He realized he could be the worst kind of hypocrite.

He distracted himself by filling her in on the information he got from the parole officers and then they made plans to go to the community center where they were sure to find Derrick Riley. She drove, while he sat staring out the window and itched to bring up the job offer. He wanted to tell her to take it, but wasn't sure if he could. He couldn't lose her. He didn't want her to become one of those people that he ran into a year or five years down the line and had nothing to say to. He didn't want her to disappear from him, even if they weren't partners – he just wanted her in his life.

"Bobby," she called.

He glanced over startled, realizing she had just shifted the SUV into park in front of the community center.

"Where are you today?" she asked.

She looked lovely with concern and uncertainty, her brow crinkled in that way she had and her hair fell away from her face as she cocked her head. He liked how her hair had grown out and no longer hid her face.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I guess the lack of sleep is finally catching up."

She snorted.

"I thought I'd never see the day," she said.

He let out a soft laugh.

"Well, I guess nothing lasts forever," he said.

He watched her face soften and he wondered if she understood what he was really saying or if she at least suspected.

"Well, come on. Let's see what Riley has to say," she said.

Bobby followed Alex into the community center. It was pretty quiet this time of morning since most of the kids who frequented it were in school and wouldn't be there until the late afternoon. It was geared toward kids from single parent homes, high risk kids that easily could fall into the wrong crowds and put an end to their own potential – kids not that different from Derrick and Jason. They offered counseling and activities to keep them on the right path. It was a little dingy, but looked well organized and that the people there did their best with the resources they had.

He took in the two side by side basketball courts, like those you'd find in a high school gym class, as he followed Alex down the sideline toward a back room, which was obviously the center's office. The door was open and they could hear two voices quietly arguing – one female and one male.

"I can't," the man said. "I'm not getting involved—"

"But, babe, you are. He—"

"No!"

His voice rose in agitation and Bobby glanced at Alex, who had looked up at him. He nodded, knowing she was indicating they should intervene now. They quickened their steps, making their way to the door and then Bobby knocked on the door frame.

Chelsea and Derrick looked toward the door from their perspective corners, both startled and a little embarrassed. Derrick stiffened, tugging on his long sleeves and then crossing his arms over his chest.

"We're sorry to interrupt," Bobby said. "I'm Detective Goren and this is Detective Eames."

Chelsea shook her head and scratched her fingers through her coarse, chin length curls.

"No, we're sorry. This must look really…" she said. "One of the down sides of working with your spouse, you know?"

She flashed a strained smile and glanced toward Derrick. His stance softened and he took the couple of paces to her side, wrapping his arm around her waist. Bobby watched the way he relaxed once against her, feeling more at ease, but obviously still flustered over their argument and, he gathered, his and Eames' appearance in the middle of it.

"What…what can we do for you detectives?" Derrick asked.

"We were actually hoping you can do something for us…Derrick," Bobby said.

Derrick's arm fell from Chelsea's waist.

"So, I take it you've read my file," Derrick said.

"Along with your brother's," Alex said.

Derrick nodded, tugging again at his sleeves. Bobby assumed it was part nervous habit and part an effort to hide any tattoos he had, tattoos that would give away who he used to be.

"Have you had any contact with him recently?" Alex asked.

Derrick shook his head, glancing toward the ground, and Bobby saw Chelsea stiffen with frustration and worry.

"No. I haven't seen him in years…not since right after I got paroled," Derrick said.

Bobby glanced at Alex and knew she was convinced as he was.

"You don't seem very surprised that we're asking about him," Bobby said.

Derrick shrugged.

"We're both ex-cons…we'll always be suspect."

Bobby nodded.

"Your brother's suspected of murder," Alex said.

Derrick rubbed his eyes, hiding his reaction or lack there of.

"Jason was never violent—"

"Derrick," Chelsea pleaded through clenched teeth.

She clutched his forearm, but he shrugged her off, stepping away and shaking his head.

"Don't," he gritted out.

Bobby stepped further into the room toward Derrick and held his hands up in a passive gesture. Derrick retreated into his corner, trying to breathe, trying not to lash out. Bobby could see the tension, guilt, and deep set anger tightening his shoulders.

"Calm down," Bobby said. "I think we should go talk down at our office."

Derrick shook his head.

"You have no grounds to arrest me—"

"We're not arresting you," Bobby said. "Look, we're pretty certain your brother is involved in the murder of two people and that you and your wife could be targets. We have to talk to you."

Derrick rubbed his chin, struggling with sadness and pain written so plainly on his face.

"This wasn't…I can't…" Derrick muttered.

"Derrick, please," Chelsea said.

Bobby could see his resolve softening and thought about the loyalties he had to be weighing. Finally, he nodded, looking defeated and uncertain about his decision.

XXXX

"We really have to do this in here?" Derrick asked.

Bobby glanced around the interrogation room. It was quiet and one of the few places where he always knew the right thing to say. There was no one on the other side for once and it really was just a practicality that they were in there.

"My partner's talking to Chelsea in the one free interview room…not many other private places to talk around here."

Derrick nodded and looked over the room. He had come in willingly, even though it had been obvious that he didn't want to be separated from Chelsea, probably afraid of what the cops would tell her and what she would tell them. Bobby gathered she was one of the few people who knew all his secrets, but that Derrick was still afraid of her waking up one day and realizing what she had married herself to.

"What, you think Chelsea will be more open if I'm not there?" Derrick asked. "Or I'll be more open if she's not here?"

"Actually, I think, you would be more open with her around. You don't like disappointing her," Bobby said.

Derrick stared down at the metal table and chewed on his bottom lip.

"I guess you think you know everything about me, right?"

"Not everything…but I know you're conflicted about what to do here. Who to protect?"

"I'll do whatever I have to, to protect Chelsea."

"Even if it means giving up your brother?"

"There's nothing to give up," Derrick said.

Bobby could tell Derrick was itching to get out his seat and pace or storm out or hit something. He knew that feeling too well – that urge to just crawl out of his skin to avoid living with something he'd done or knew.

"Your brother looked up to you as a kid, didn't he?"

Derrick huffed.

"So now you know everything about him too?"

Bobby smiled. He liked Derrick – his stubbornness, his conflict, his ability to change. He got the feeling Chelsea had become the part that held it all together and he understood that too. He knew what it was like to have someone stumble into his life and completely change the equation that he equaled out to.

"Chelsea must be an amazing woman," Bobby said.

This earned him a glance.

"Leave her out of this…please."

"She's in it whether you like it or not," Bobby said. "I mean, she represents everything you've changed about yourself…everything you've done to try to redeem yourself. And despite everything, she fell in love with you."

"It is possible for people to really change, you know," Derrick said, defensively.

"I believe that. Is she what made you change?"

Derrick huffed and leaned forward with his elbows resting on the table. He shook his head, while rubbing his temples with his fingers.

"She was the only one who gave me a chance when I first got there…"

"At the community center…"

Derrick nodded, looking nostalgic and lost in a good memory.

"You know, I still don't know when it happened…" Derrick said.

Bobby nodded, though unlike Derrick he did know. He could pinpoint the moment he began to see Eames as more than a partner, but he tried to brush it off as something else – transference, a broader desire that really had nothing to do with her.

"She steadies you…makes you want to be better—"

"Don't," Derrick said. "I don't need you to tell me what she is to me."

Bobby nodded.

"Okay," Bobby said. "Then tell me about your brother. You brought him into your world before you got arrested—"

"I tried to get him out. He…" Derrick said. "He wouldn't listen to me…"

"You mean after you got paroled," Bobby said.

"Yeah. After that, he just got in deeper…wouldn't have anything to do with me…"

"He felt like you turned your back on him."

Anger flashed across Derrick's face and shifted in his seat, itching get up.

"Look, don't lay this on me," Derrick said. "Jason made his choices just like I did."

"If you really believe that then why protect him?" Bobby asked. "He found out about you and Chelsea and I'm betting he confronted you about it…"

"I can protect Chelsea…he won't do anything to me."

"If you want to protect Chelsea and your baby, then you need to give up your brother," Bobby said. "You can't be sure they'll be safe until we have him in custody."

Derrick let out a harsh breath and scrubbed his hands over his face. He stared down at the table for a long moment. Bobby could see the guilt and anger replaced by what they were masking – fear.

"Fuck," Derrick huffed out. "If they found out I talked then…"

"We can protect you and Chelsea. We can post a squad car on your building and the center. We will make sure your family is protected."

Derrick huffed out a laugh. It was an empty and defeated sound.

"Yeah? Which one? He's still my family too."

Bobby nodded, glancing away from Derrick, understanding his guilt, the feeling of betrayal; of being responsible for another's failures and crimes.

"Your brother, he did contact you?"

Derrick sighed, glancing up at the ceiling and slightly shaking his head.

"Yeah, okay? I saw him."

"When?"

"Uh…about a week, week and half ago…I was walking home from the center, Chelsea had already gone, and he grabbed me as I passed an alley. I'd never seen him like that…he…he had that look I used to get…"

"He was enraged."

Derrick nodded.

"You could say that," Derrick said. "He kept asking me if it was true…that Kelly told him I was with…with Chelsea. If I had known she worked there I would have gotten Chelsea to switch doctors…we never would have kept going there."

"Did he threaten you? Chelsea?"

"Not in so many words. He told me I should be ashamed…that Chelsea…that she was just a whore that corrupted me."

"Where would he go?" Bobby asked.

"I don't know."

"You have an idea. Who would help protect him?"

Derrick huffed and rolled his eyes.

"Daniel. Daniel Cullen. He's the one that got me into the movement…Jason turned to him when I left. Daniel would help hide him," Derrick said.

Bobby nodded and jotted down the information into his notebook as he asked Derrick for more details on Cullen.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed or added as an alert or favorite. This is a bit of a departure for me, so it's been a bit of an experiment and I really appreicate people letting me know what they think. **

Sustaining What You Built

Chapter 5

Alex watched Chelsea sip the tea she had brought her earlier and lightly stroke her round belly. She occasionally shifted in the metal chair and rubbed her lower back. She seemed like a happy person, content, and easy going. Alex imagined she'd have to be to get involved with someone like Derrick – someone who not too long ago would have easily done harm to her.

"Sorry, I know these chairs are horrible for pregnancy," Alex said.

Chelsea laughed.

"I'm finding most chairs are," Chelsea said. "You have kids?"

Alex shook her head and gave a small, dismissive smile. She couldn't help the image of her nephew that popped into her head, but she quickly tried to push it away.

"No," Alex said. "Uh, you and Derrick…you're a pretty odd couple."

Chelsea smiled, not at all offended, and just nodded her head. Alex had given a similar response when an old friend from her days at vice had questioned why she had stayed for so long with Goren, convinced he had held her back. Maybe he had. For awhile she certainly believed he would, but then it didn't really matter. He was her _partner_ and even if she wasn't exactly clear on how deeply that went, she knew it was more than simple professional courtesy.

"Yes, we are. My friends thought I had completely lost my mind," Chelsea said.

"What about your parents? They had to be worried for you, knowing his background."

"They were, but they don't have much room to talk. My mom's Japanese American and her parents weren't exactly sure about her marrying a black man, but she did anyway," Chelsea said. "I don't expect anyone to understand why…I just know he's not the person he was."

Alex nodded.

"You started as friends?"

"Yeah…I gave him a chance…he talked to me…we started talking about everything and then two years ago, I just knew I had feelings for him…"

"I take it you made the first move."

Chelsea smiled.

"Well he wouldn't. And I didn't even know if he could feel that way about me, but I had to see…and…and it was a good decision. Don't get me wrong…it took some time for him to come around, but…"

"He didn't feel the same?"

"He did…he just had this notion that I'd be better off with out him," she said. "Sometimes he still feels that way…"

Her voice dropped as the door opened and Derrick followed by Bobby joined them in the interview room. Derrick hesitated, but when she raised her arm toward him, he took the seat beside her, resting his palm on the back of her neck. He kissed her temple and whispered something in her ear about everything being okay. Alex felt like a voyeur watching them and shifted her gaze to Bobby, who seemed just as much an intruder as she did on the couple's reunion.

He caught her eyes, but quickly looked away. Something was going on with him and it wasn't lack of sleep. She had watched him come in after a sleepless night for years and it never left him looking distracted. She knew it was her that was bothering him. She had to tell him about the job. He deserved to know before she gave her answer to the captain.

"We'll leave you two," Bobby said. "We'll get a couple of uniforms to take you home and they'll stay with you."

She watched Bobby turn toward the door and rose to follow him, but then Derrick shot up from him seat.

"Wait," Derrick said.

She and Bobby both turned back to him and she found herself eager to find out what went on between them while she talked to Chelsea.

"I want to be here when you bring him in," Derrick said.

Alex glanced up at Bobby, silently questioning him, and he then quietly told her they had an address where Jason might be.

"We don't even know for certain we'll find him there—" Bobby said.

"But if you do…" Derrick said.

"Derrick," Chelsea said.

She rose from her seat and grabbed at his elbow, effectively turning him towards her.

"I want you to come home," Chelsea said.

"They can take you home…or, no, they'll take you to your parent's," he said. "They can do that right?"

He asked the question over his shoulder, directing it more towards Bobby than Alex, but she answered with a nod and a "sure" anyway.

"Don't do that," Chelsea said. "Don't talk like I'm not here. We make decisions together…"

Alex almost smiled at the exchange just because of how familiar it felt. Her and Joe's arguments were often similar because as much as he respected her ability as an officer, a part of him was still a traditionalist, dropping hints about being ready to have kids when she wasn't and making plans to "surprise" her with tasers or an old family crib, but her not being too thrilled by it.

"I didn't…" Derrick stopped himself to take a breath. "I know, but I can't just leave him here. I…I could've stopped this…I need to see him. Help him however I can…"

Chelsea heaved out a sigh, worry tracing every line and curve of her face, but then she nodded.

"Promise, you'll call," she said.

"I will."

Alex watched as Derrick placed an arm around Chelsea's waist and drew her to his side. At her side, she heard Bobby open the door and step half way out, briefly glancing at her and then back to the couple.

"We'll get those uniforms to come to take you home," Bobby said.

Alex followed Bobby out the door, closing it behind her, and then followed him back towards their desks.

"So what's this address?" she asked.

"It's a house on Staten Island owned by Daniel Cullen. He was Derrick's mentor when he first got involved in…the movement," Bobby said.

"You know, there's no way they'll just let us in," Alex said.

"Yeah, but I think the word of a former member is enough for probable cause," he said.

He looked at her pointedly and all she could do was nod.

"Then let's talk to the captain."

XXXX

While the captain worked on getting a few officers for Alex and Bobby to take to Cullen's home, they worked on getting more information from Derrick. Cullen had no record and Derrick confirmed that he was more an instigator than one to actually get his hands dirty. He had money and used it to fuel his politics, reaching out to disenchanted white youth through any medium that would allow him to (mostly pamphlets and the internet) and then molding them to his ideas.

As Alex and Bobby prepared to leave, holstering their guns and securing their vests, Derrick was ready to follow. He was anxious to the point where Bobby put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him into the interview room. Alex watched them from outside. She could tell Bobby had respect for the younger man and he seemed to have earned his trust. Bobby was good with putting people at ease, getting them to see the truth of the matter, and feeling for them when it hurt. She just never understood how he could be so brilliant with these transient figures who came in and out of his life, but so uncertain about the people who really mattered.

He came out as Derrick dropped into one of the metal chairs to wait, and asked if she was ready.

"Let's go," she said.

She turned on her heel and he followed. The six uniforms were already downstairs in their squad cars, as they got into their SUV and headed out.

As Alex pulled up to the Cullen residence, she could tell it was a well kept two story house with numerous bedrooms and a basement, just the way Derrick described. They stepped out of the SUV nearly in unison and made their way up the walk with the uniforms behind them. She glanced up at Bobby as they reached the door, silently asking if he was ready, and then she watched him nod.

Bobby pounded on the door, while she yelled, "police, open up!" A startled woman with medium brown hair and a "Susie-home-maker" look about her, opened the large oak door. The woman's eyes darted between Alex and Bobby, and then glanced beyond them to the police officers behind them.

"What…what are you doing here? What do you want?" she asked.

"We're here to search the property," Alex said. "We need you to step aside, ma'am."

"But, why? You have no right."

"This warrant says we do," Alex said.

She pushed the warrant into the woman's hands, while Bobby pushed the door open and directed the officers inside to start their search.

"What the hell are you people doing?"

The voice came from the corridor along side the staircase in the foyer and Alex saw a well dressed man coming toward them. He was lean and average height, with a long chin and matching nose.

"Dan, they have a warrant," the woman explained.

She passed the slip of paper to him and he then scrutinized it, furrowing his brows and frowning.

"What exactly are they looking for?" he asked.

Bobby moved toward the man, invading his space, with his hands clasped behind his back. Alex stood back and watched keeping an eye on the three entry ways she could see and her partner.

"Not what…who," Bobby said. "Are you Daniel Cullen?"

He stared up defiantly at Bobby, challenging him, and pressed his lips into a barely there smile.

"Yes, I am," Cullen said. "What is this, another attempt to curb my constitutional rights?"

"Last time I checked, the constitution doesn't condone hiding murder suspects," Alex said.

Cullen glanced away from Bobby to her and looked her over.

"You're a pretty woman, pure—"

"Jason Riley," Bobby said.

Cullen's attention turned back to Bobby.

"You know, most people when we say we're looking for someone, their first question is…you know, who?" Bobby said. "But I guess you already knew."

"You cops are always looking for someone here…persecuting us for our beliefs. What does it matter which one of us?"

"I think Jason matters a lot to you. You've been his…mentor…since his brother abandoned your beliefs," Bobby said.

Alex watched the contempt tense Bobby's shoulders and stepped closer to him, hoping to grab his attention away from Cullen. She knew Cullen wouldn't break. He was too skilled, too smart, and had the money for the finest lawyers, so he had no fear. He wouldn't fold without hard evidence. There was a good chance Cullen had put Jason up to these murders – made him willing and capable of committing murder in the name for his cause. That, she was sure, hit a nerve with Bobby.

"Derrick," Cullen sighed the name.

"He turned his back on you…on Jason," Bobby said.

"Prison mixed Derrick up…it's a hard place—"

"Not that you would know," Bobby said. "Putting all these thoughts in young men's heads and sending then out to do your dirty work. To get crushed under the wheels you set into motion—"

Cullen let out a contemptuous laugh.

"You're attacks on me, Detective, are misguided," Cullen said. "Do your search and then get out."

Cullen took the woman by the arm and steered her with him as he turned to go and sit in their antique filled living room. Alex turned her eyes back to Bobby, who huffed and ran a hand down his face. He finally glanced down at her.

"Come on," Alex said. "Let's see what—"

"Detectives!" one of the uniforms called from the back of the hallway. "Suspect got out through the basement!"

"You go around front, I'll get the back," Bobby said.

They parted quickly, as Alex drew her weapon and headed out the front door. She trotted down the sidewalk and glanced from side to side, taking in both sides of the walkway and trying to peer over the hedge separating the yard from their neighbors. That was where she first spotted him – darting from the side of the house and up the sidewalk outlining the street. Two of the uniformed officers were a minute behind him, while she started toward Jason Riley.

"Stop, police!" Alex yelled.

She watched him scramble and then falter. She realized then that Bobby was on the opposite of Jason, with his own gun trained on him. He must have cut through the neighbor's yard to come around and cut him off. Now they had him cornered, with Jason's only option to run out into the street, but he had to know one of them would easily get a shot off and take him down before he even made it half way.

"Come on, Jason," Bobby said. "There's only one way out of this. You know that."

Alex watched as Bobby inched closer to him and followed his lead. It was obvious Jason was at a loss as to where to go, looking from side to side, grasping for an out come everyone knew was unlikely.

Jason's shoulders slumped and then Bobby finished the distance between them, anchoring a palm on the small man's shoulder. Alex holstered her gun, catching Bobby's eyes over Jason's shoulder, and then cuffed him.

"Don't worry Jason," Cullen called. "I'll have my lawyer meet you."

Alex watched Bobby guide Jason to the back seat of their SUV, and then turned to see Cullen only a few feet away from her.

"You sure you don't want to retain his services for yourself?" Alex asked.

"Excuse me?" Cullen said.

Alex glanced over at the officer beside her and then turned back to Cullen.

"Officer Sanchez? Would you place Mr. Cullen under arrest for aiding and abetting?" Alex asked.

"With pleasure, ma'am."

The officer moved to Cullen, placing him under arrest and reciting his rights.

"I didn't know," Cullen said.

"Take it up with the DA," Alex said.

She left Cullen to the officers and joined Bobby at the SUV to head back to One PP.

XXXX

Alex trailed behind as Bobby steered Jason off the elevator and onto the eleventh floor. Their intention was to take him straight into interrogation, while the other officers booked Cullen and bypass Derrick catching sight of his brother before they had a chance to mediate. The last thing they needed was their prime suspect causing a scene once he realized his own brother had lead them to him, but Derrick apparently wasn't sensitive to their situation.

Alex figured he must have heard them coming off the elevator or was anticipating them after he realized the other officers had come back, because seconds after turning the corner towards the interrogation rooms she heard Derrick's voice call his brother's name. It was a mournful, apologetic sound, followed by the rushing of Derrick's footsteps as he came closer to them.

"You," Jason spat.

Jason struggled against Bobby's hold, twisting and pulling, ready and eager to attack.

"I knew it, you bastard!"

Jason's voice cracked and he struggled harder.

"I want to help you," Derrick said.

"Help me?"

"Jason, it was bullshit…it's all bullshit."

Alex saw Derrick make a move to step closer, but she moved between them, placing a hand on the center of his chest. Bobby struggled briefly with Jason, before getting hold of both of his arms to pull him to interrogation. He spit out and yelled profanities and racial slurs, insulting Derrick, Chelsea, and any other minority that might be in hearing range until Bobby finally pulled him into the open interrogation room and slammed the door shut.

"Please, I have to talk to him…he has to understand…" Derrick said.

Alex saw his desperation and she couldn't help but remember the morning Frank Goren ambushed her outside, asking her to be his advocate to Bobby. She still wasn't sure if she had done the right thing by conceding or if Bobby had ever really, truly written him off, even as much as he had wanted to.

"Listen, you have a good second chance here," Alex said.

She knew it was lame and cliché, but he needed to think about his new life and let go of the things that would only hurt and hold him back.

"And he needs one too," Derrick said.

Alex sighed, seeing his pain and determination.

"Look, let detective Goren and I talk to him without any interruption…and we'll see what we can do for him," Alex said. "But you have to understand he's up on murder charges. There's only so many chances he can get now."

Derrick nodded.

"Just please…give me a chance to talk to him…just for a little while."

"Let me talk to my partner."

"Okay."

Alex looked him over and then directed him back to the interview room he had occupied most of the day. She watched him turn the corner and then made her way to the interrogation room.


	6. Chapter 6

Sustaining What You Built

Chapter 6

Bobby maneuvered Jason into the metal chair, shoving him down and barking out a "sit and calm down." He struggled half-heartedly at first, but relented with a huff as his ass hit the metal seat. He wasn't a stupid kid, even if he had been written off, and Bobby imagined he was well aware of the fact he didn't have very many options right now except to cooperate with them.

After Jason settled, Bobby undid the cuffs and then hooked them to the ring connected to the table, just in case he had any more outbursts. Bobby took his seat across from him, reaching to open his binder, but then realized he didn't have it with him.

"I'm not talking to you," Jason said.

Bobby nodded as he studied the young man. He was gangly and gaunt. He could have easily passed as a teenager despite being in his mid twenties, with narrow eyes that somehow radiated as much anger as it did naiveté.

"And I'm not talking to that race traitor fucker either—"

Jason recoiled at the sound of the door swinging open and Bobby turned to see Alex join him with the case file and his binder in her hand. He took the file and binder from her as she passed it to him and watched her as she seated herself next to him. Her eyes stayed focus on their suspect as she settled into the chair and spoke; picking up the easy back and forth game they were so good at playing.

"Talk, don't talk," she said. "It doesn't change the fact we can place you in the alley where the Bartletts were shot."

Bobby knew the cue she was giving him and pulled the slim evidence bag holding the shred of flannel from his binder and tossed it onto the table. He watched as Jason chewed on his bottom lip in an effort to not give a reaction.

"Someone took my shirt," he said as he shrugged.

"Not caring that your blood was on it?" Alex asked.

"Some people can't be picky…"

Jason turned his eyes to the table and traced a finger from his free hand in random patterns along the metal.

"You really think that explanation's going to fly?" Bobby asked. "Come on, you're smarter than that."

"What part of not talking do you not understand?" Jason asked. "Dan said to wait for his lawyer, so I'm waiting. So you can just stop now."

Bobby smiled, hearing the same attitude he heard in his exchange with Derrick and thought that was the way to get to him – to rile him up so he'd open up before he even knew what he was doing. He glanced quickly at Alex, who waited expectantly, knowingly, and then he turned back to Jason.

"You know, you sound like your brother," Bobby said.

"I'm nothing like him—"

"Yeah, I think you are. I think you emulated him, absorbed everything he told you and you took it as…as gospel. But then when he realized it was a lie, you couldn't handle it—"

"He's the one who couldn't handle it! Cullen said they got to him…turned his head around."

"Well, Cullen would know. It's exactly what he did to Derrick…and to you."

"Cullen has only tried to help us…"

"No, he manipulated you. He manipulated Derrick…putting him on the path that landed him in prison in the first place…just like he's done with you now."

Jason just stared down at the table, looking like some petulant kid, who could easily tune him out. Bobby huffed and stood, before dragging his chair around the table to Jason's side. He scooted the chair Jason occupied around to better face him and then dropped back into his seat.

"Look, Cullen doesn't care what happens to you. You really think he'd help you if it meant risking his own ass?" Goren asked. "Now, your brother…your brother cares. He wants to help you…he's risked his and his family's safety to try and be here for you."

Jason looked up at him then, scraping his top lip on his teeth, and shifted roughly in his seat. Bobby was becoming resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to come around, not without proof of a betrayal from the people he trusted.

"He's not my family," Jason said through gritted teeth.

Bobby glanced down at his own hands as he rubbed them together and nodded. He knew what it was like to wish he'd come from a different place or people – wanting to erase the parts that didn't fit with the person he wanted to be.

"You can't change your family," he said, his tone softening. "As much as you may want to."

Bobby sighed and sat back at the chair, glancing toward Alex. Her gaze shifted from Jason to him. Her lips were pressed tightly together and her brow slightly furrowed. He could see her own frustration and even her sympathy, but he figured it was more for him than their perp. He wasn't really sure what to do with that, so he turned back to Jason, who stared stubbornly down at the table. Bobby sucked in a breath and searched for another tactic.

"Kelly Donovan," Bobby said. "She was your brother's ex, wasn't she?"

Jason glared up at him, his jaw tense and clenching. He obviously felt for Kelly and the betrayal she had felt from Derrick. Bobby imagined he may have even had a bit of a crush on her.

"You know she waited for him while he was in prison?" Jason asked.

Bobby opened his mouth to continue, thinking now Kelly was the key, but then the door swung open. A middle aged man in an Armani suit and polished blonde hair appeared in the doorway. He reeked of high priced, overpaid lawyer with loose morals.

"I believe this interview is over," he said. "I'd like some time with my client."

Alex tipped her head and rose from the table, chin held high.

"Take all the time you need," she said sharply.

Bobby rose as well and then followed Alex out of the interrogation room. Ross was in the hallway, hands shoved deep in his pockets, with a striking and tall woman beside.

"Pretty fancy lawyer Cullen got him," Alex muttered.

Ross nodded and then waved to the woman beside him. She was blonde and a little on the boney side, but in a polished grey suit with a knee length skirt and stylish, thick rimmed glasses.

"Detectives Goren and Eames, I'd like to introduce our new ADA, Alex Cabot," Ross said.

"Detectives," she said as a way of greeting.

She shook each of their hands with a tight smile and stepped back for a second, taking both of them in. Bobby knew neither he nor Alex were really in the mood for niceties.

"I'll cut right to the chase. I'm sure I can get remand on Jason because of his parole violations alone. It'll give you time to see what else you can get connecting him to the Bartletts' murders," Cabot said.

"We have the DNA," Bobby said. "Eye witness testimony…"

"Of people in a large crowd, who were more than likely panicked by the gunfire," Cabot said. "We need something solid, like a murder weapon."

"Our search didn't turn up any nine mils at Cullen's place," Alex said. "He's probably dumped it."

"Yeah, probably because someone told him to," Bobby muttered.

He shuffled on his feet frustrated, knowing their hands were tied at the moment and their case was left to the court to sort out unless they could find a way to get Jason to confess.

"I'll do my best to make a case out of it, but that fancy lawyer, as you say, will do everything to tear it to shreds," Cabot said. "Now, excuse me, I have to go prepare for Mr. Cullen's and Jason's arraignments."

He listened to her walk away, but found himself looking down at Alex. She still had that frustrated scowl on her face and even thought he saw some worry in her eyes, but he wasn't sure if it was just the case bothering her.

"Okay," Ross said. "Go home, get some rest. Tomorrow see what other haunts you can find where Jason could have stashed the gun. And go talk to Kelly Donavan again. Bring her in if you have to."

"Yes, captain," Alex said.

They both watched him walk away and Bobby let out a breath as he looked back to Alex. He could see her getting ready to speak, but then heard Derrick's voice calling, "Goren!" They both swung around to see Derrick approaching them. He looked tired and desperate – needing something good to come out of the things he did. Bobby wanted to help him get his brother back; to salvage what was left of his life, but he didn't think he could. He might have to just move on with his new life and maybe that wasn't a bad thing.

"Derrick, you should go home. See your wife," Bobby said.

Derrick huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

"What did he say?" Derrick asked.

Bobby shook his head.

"Not a lot," Bobby said. "The best you can do is just…keep showing up. Eventually, he might come around."

Derrick nodded, defeated.

"Right," Derrick said.

He paused glancing at the floor and then at the detectives. He simply nodded and left them there. Bobby watched him go, feeling tired and like they only got half of a win today; one that could easily fall apart with a wrong move at trial.

He felt Alex step up beside him and he shifted, quietly looking down at her. He could see his own concerns reflected in her features and it comforted him – calmed him even.

"Let's go get a drink," she said.

He ticked his head of surprised, but nodded anyway.

XXXX

They went to his neighborhood bar. She suggested it and he didn't question why. Neither were really regulars at the typical cop bars the rest of MCS often frequented, so he knew she'd pick something more low key, somewhere easy to talk. He assumed talking was what her intention was in this invitation and he began bracing himself for the inevitable.

They sat in a booth across from each other, each nursing a beer and picking at the cheese fries she had ordered. She was quiet, not looking at him, and wiped her fingers against the already balled up napkin beside her beer. He wasn't used to seeing her nervous and it almost made him feel relieved because it meant leaving would be just as hard for her as it was for him. But at the same time the silence and anticipation was getting to him.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She looked up at him suddenly, obviously surprised by the question since she was usually the one asking, while he was the quiet brooding one. She nodded and then took another sip of her beer.

"Are you?" she asked.

He sighed and realized part of her hesitation was from wondering how he was dealing with the outcome of their current case. She didn't want to add anymore distress to his plate. He thought he had been getting better at detaching himself and he had hoped she'd have noticed, but maybe she was taking it for something else – disinterest; depression, and maybe it was. Maybe he'd eventually have to admit that the job wasn't what was actually keeping there.

"I'm okay," he said. "You know, I'm not pleased, but…I'm okay."

She nodded and then plucked another fry from the gooey pile. He saw her startle slightly and then heard the ringing from her phone. She pulled it out and looked at the screen, sighing. She silenced it and just put it back in her pocket. He couldn't help but wonder if it had been her "date" from last night.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said with a shake of her head.

He huffed, wishing she would just be her usual direct self. He was annoyed even.

"I seem to be hearing that from you a lot," he said.

Her eyes flashed up at his and he could see her own annoyance at his curt tone, and the fact they both knew he was goading her.

"Because you're so forthcoming," she said.

He huffed and shook his head, knowing she was right – that he wouldn't appreciate her pushing him, but he needed to know. He needed her tell him about this job offer.

"Look, I already know about the job."

He looked up to hold her gaze, only to be faced with more anger and confusion crossing her face.

"How—"

"I wasn't…snooping," he said, holding his hands up defensively. "If that's what you're thinking. I just…Pertrillo and I apparently have the same taste in restaurants…I just…over heard…"

She recoiled then, shifting her eyes to the table, and took a breath.

"Bobby, I…I was going to tell you…I just…"

She floundered and he wanted to catch her – wanted to be able to reassure her that everything would be okay. He'd be okay…they'd be okay, but he honestly didn't know; wasn't sure how much he might be losing here.

"You wanted to be sure," he said.

She nodded and then he shifted forward, shrugging softly.

"You…you deserve it," he said. "I mean, you are taking it?"

She scrunched her face for a second, in a classic Eames "what the hell are you getting at" look, and then gave a brief nod.

"Probably…"

"Well, you should," he said quietly.

He tried to sound convincing, knowing it was the truth, but also wasn't completely comfortable with the finality of it. He watched the surprise contort her face and even thought he saw a bit of uncertainty.

"What? Are you ready to get rid of me?" she asked.

She was trying to sound like she was teasing, but he also heard the hurt in her voice. He didn't except her to take his reaction as a rejection, though he guessed he shouldn't have been surprised. Things had been so up and down between them over the last few years and he felt neither was completely sure where they stood anymore. And everyone knew how well he accepted change. They assumed he didn't do well without her, that he couldn't function without her there to reel him in and maybe they were right. But maybe, if he really wanted to, he could work with someone else and function just as well or move on to something else. Maybe it was time to. It wasn't like he hadn't gotten offers – FBI, hell even IAB, but he still wanted her friendship or whatever she was willing to give.

"No," he said. "No, I never want to get rid of you…"

He had to look away from her then and took a deep breath. He had to do this, but he wasn't sure how to. He didn't know the odds here – didn't know if this would only make things worse between them.

"But…" he said. "Maybe, it's time for…for things to change…between us…"

He fiddled with his hands, linking his fingers and let one thumb slide against one forefinger, and then looked up at her. There was confusion in her eyes and something else he could only identify as panic. Her mouth opened, but little sound came out as she shook her head.

"Do you…" he paused and shifted. "Do you remember that night in New Orleans?"

"Uh…sure, but—"

"Yeah, but, do you think about?"

She shifted and shook her head even more adamantly.

"We can't have this conversation—"

"Why?"

"Why?" she asked in disbelief. "Because…we're—"

"Partners?" he asked. "But we won't be—"

"Bobby…"

"Look, you know," he said. "You have to know…that I…that I care…more than I should."

She just stared at him for a moment and he knew she was grasping for straws to argue, to pull away from what he was laying at her feet. He couldn't recall ever seeing her squirm before, but she looked as if all she wanted to do was escape.

"Yes, we care…" she said. "We've worked together a long time…closely…and feelings…they…they can get confused…mixed up…"

He shook his head, knowing it was bullshit and that she knew it too. He shifted feeling agitated, raw, and idiotic; like it was all going to fall apart just like everything else and it pissed him off.

"Don't tell me I'm confused," he said. "Okay? I'm not confused."

He stepped out from the booth and pulled his wallet from his back pocket. He tossed some money on the table, but refused to look at her. He couldn't look at her. Maybe he was being unfair springing this on her, but he was finally realizing that he spent so much of his life avoiding and he was getting too old to keep it up. He realized he didn't want to anymore. He wanted more than just the job – wanted something else to put his energy in and there was no longer anything keeping him distracted from doing just that.

"Bobby, I—"

He held up his hand and finally met her gaze again. Neither of them had planned for this. Hell, they weren't even each other's type, but she was the one stable presence he had ever had in his life and that counted for more than she probably realized. He needed that steadiness and a part of him was pretty certain she needed him, but was just too scared, still too married to the past to really admit it.

"I know what I feel, Eames," he said. "And I'm not the one who's confused."

He turned away from her then and left the bar, escaping to the cool fall air.

XXXX

He didn't really expect to sleep that night anyway. He was mortified for one and inclined to call Olivet and tell her how royally her advice had backfired – how opening up was just going to make him lose her completely from his life. Not that he was surprised – when was the last time anything had gone the way he wanted it to? His life was a debacle of mistakes (starting even at his conception) and opportunities he let slip by him – girlfriends that were always trumped by the job or his mother, friends he had lost touch with long ago, a brother and nephew he couldn't save, and mother who was lost as early as he could remember. How could he think he wouldn't eventually lose Alex too?

It was almost a relief when the phone rang on his bedside table, despite the fact that calls at one in the morning rarely brought good news. For a second he hoped it was Eames, but then saw the captain's name flash on the outside display.

"Yeah, Goren," he answered.

"It's Ross," he heard the captain say. "I need you to get your partner and come to Kings County Hospital."

"What happened?"

He threw the covers off and started towards his dresser, ready to pull out some casual clothes one handed as he continued to hold the phone.

"There was a…incident at the Riley's apartment. I don't have all the details yet, but it's not sounding good. Both were taken to the hospital about twenty minutes ago…that's all I know."

He felt the fear and guilt pull at him as he gathered a flannel button down and a pair of jeans. He didn't intend to put Chelsea and Derrick at anymore risk than they already were in and was certain this had to be retaliation from Cullen or one of his followers.

"I'll call Eames and get her to meet us," he said.

He closed the phone with out a word and then hurriedly dressed, trying to repress the guilt creeping into his chest. He was in his car, starting the engine before he pulled out his cell phone and called Eames.

**A/N: I honestly don't know what's going on with Cabot over on SVU, but I just decided I needed DA and wanted to barrow her. I mean this is pretty offically AU now anyway. Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think.**


	7. Chapter 7

Sustaining What You Built

Chapter 7

She wasn't sure which made her angrier – the fact he had actually said what they had been tip-toeing around for God knows how long, or that he ran when he didn't get the answer he wanted. But what the hell was he expecting?

She sat in the bar for two hours, letting the cheese fries get cold and harden, and clutched her still half full glass, as if it were the remnants of the life she knew. There was no going back now, no ignoring, or pretending. There was no choice now but to let things change and to take the job on the task force. But what if they ended up offering it to someone else? She and Bobby couldn't stay partners now – she knew him and it was obvious that the status quos wasn't enough for him anymore. So what could she do? She could walk away, request a new partner and hoped he'd just move on, or give in and play house for a few months before reality set in – before some other tragedy drove him away again or some case took over his head and heart.

"Ma'am?"

Startled, she looked up at the waitress hovering over her.

"Did you need anything else?" she asked.

"Uh, no. Just the check."

The girl nodded her head and left her to retrieve the check. Then she heard her voicemail alert sound. She had been ignoring it, knowing it was Jeff who had left the message, and she really couldn't talk to him right now. She pulled the phone from her pocket and then just stared at the screen. There was no way to make it just disappear, so she finally hit listen as the girl came back, dropping the check on the table.

_Hey, Alex_, she listened to Jeff's voice. _I was hoping I'd catch you, but I guess you're still working. I was wondering if you'd have time for coffee before you head back to work in the morning. My shift here ends at seven a.m. so I thought it might be a good time for our paths to cross. So…yeah…call me if you have time. Bye. Oh, and it's Jeff. You've probably figured that out…but just in case…all right…bye…really this time._

She flipped the phone closed with a tiny smile perking the corner of her mouth. She knew she should probably call and say 'yes, of course.' She should've wanted to, but didn't and that just made her even more pissed at Bobby. It fucking figured he'd pull this right when he knew there could be someone else in her life.

She left the bar practically seething over this alpha male bullshit she'd been stuck in the middle of for the last three years. She wished she could just barricade herself in her apartment for a few days until all of this shit was just forgotten – until she could look at her partner again and see just that: just a partner. She drove to Forest Hills on autopilot and barely remembered how she got to her building as she searched for a parking space.

Once inside she took a long, hot shower, trying to work out the tension in her body. It didn't really help much – her mind kept wandering to the night in New Orleans and how funny and charming he had been; how happy he had seemed to just enjoy her company, even if they were technically on the job. She really hadn't thought about it since that night. She couldn't let herself and was thankful he never pushed it or brought it up again. She figured the job and the partnership was too important to screw up, but now it looked like they wouldn't be partners for much longer and any reason he had not to bring it up was gone.

She crawled into bed still thinking about it – about how she'd either have to be another person who disappeared from his life or learn to be a part of it in a different way. She wasn't really sure if she was capable of or wanted either.

She laid there not sleeping, but flopping from one frustrated position to another and never getting comfortable. Then her cell phone rang. She was surprised to see Goren's name on the display and even worried – about him; about what to say.

"Hi," she said, lamely.

There was a pause and then the sound of him clearing his throat.

"Uh…H-hi," he said. "I-I need you to meet me at Kings County Hospital."

She sat up suddenly, scared of what he might have done or what might have happened to him. Images of some uncharacteristic bar fight, leaving him with some massive head wound or broken bones swam in her head.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"What? No, I mean, I'm fine," he said. "The captain called…its Derrick and Chelsea…something happened…I don't have any details yet. Just meet me there."

"Okay—"

He hung up before she could say anything else. She stared at the phone half expecting it to grow six feet and sprout salt and pepper hair so she could counter him or at least knock some sense into him, but she had no such luck. She swung her legs out of bed and began gathering clothes.

She drove with the radio down, lost in her thoughts about Bobby, their partnership, and how exactly to deal with him once she was in front of him. In the past few years as their relationship had hit emotional walls and stubborn bumps, there had been an underlay of awkwardness she thought they had finally maneuvered out of, but now she felt it surrounding her and he wouldn't make it easy. He would be hurt with all his walls and then some up, ready to throw her back at arms length, and truthfully she felt safer there than up close, wrapped up in his pseudo confession.

XXXX

She found Bobby and Ross in the waiting room outside the ICU. Bobby saw her and then rubbed his hand down his face, maybe out of exhaustion, but more likely out of avoidance. He wouldn't directly look at her even once she was standing in front of them. She saw Ross glance between them, scrutinizing and calculating more than what was actually there.

"What the hell happened?" Alex asked.

She directed it to the captain and hoped she didn't sound too snappish, but it was late and she was tired, and her partner of nine years had all but told her he was in love with her. She was a bit on edge. For a second she thought Ross was about to ask something similar with just as much bite, but then pulled back with a deep breath.

"We still can't get much of a clear story. All we know is several people broke in…they beat Chelsea and shot Derrick…he's still in surgery."

"And Chelsea?"

She watched Ross' eyes cut to Goren as if expecting him to answer – to start participating in this conversation. But when he didn't, Ross huffed and turned back to Alex.

"She's in recovery."

His voice was growing with irritation and Alex could feel her own annoyance growing. She had just started feeling as if the three of them had found a rhythm with each other and now it was going to hell in a hand basket thanks to her partner and his so called feelings.

"Well, can we talk to her?" Alex asked.

"Goren tried…she wasn't…responsive."

"Just because he didn't get a response doesn't automatically mean I won't," Alex said. "I spent time with her earlier—"

"It doesn't matter," Bobby said.

Alex looked up at him, hoping her eyes looked as deadly as she wished they actually were.

"Since when are you a gauge for how—"

"She lost the baby," Bobby said.

"The beating, it caused her to go into labor," Ross said.

She recoiled, scratching the space between her eyes. She thought about all the miscarriages she watched her sister go through and then the screaming, ruddy, little boy, who she mourned for even if he wasn't hers; even if he was quite healthy and alive.

"Still, I can sit with her…see if she might open up," Alex said.

Ross huffed and glanced between his two detectives.

"Fine. Eames, go sit with her. Goren, go down to the surgery waiting room, talk to Riley's mother and wait for word on Derrick. I'm going to go figure out how the hell the protective detail let this happen," Ross said.

He turned on his heal, but then swiveled back around.

"And whatever the hell is going on with you two, work it out. Now," Ross said.

Alex waited until he was out of sight before glancing up at Bobby, knowing her eyes where still proverbial daggers. He had that hurt look on his face, hiding contained anger and fear. All she could do was shake her head at him and then walk through the ICU doors to Chelsea's recovery room.

It was dim with Chelsea's bundled up form on the white bed. The only sounds came from the monitor and the shuffling noises and passing voices from the outside hall. Her eyes were open, but vacantly staring at nothing in particular. She had been worked over pretty good with a black eye, cracked lip, and what looked like finger marks from someone grabbing her.

"Chelsea? It's Detective Eames."

Alex eased down in the chair at Chelsea's side, sitting forward, unsure as to how to approach her. Honestly, this was more Bobby's area, but for all the loss he had suffered, she doubted he could truly understand what Chelsea felt right now. Maybe she couldn't either, but she refused to believe she was just doing this out of spite.

"We don't have to talk about anything if you don't want, but I'm just going to stay here for a little while…if that's okay," Alex said.

Chelsea's eyes closed and she tried to shift, but groaned in pain, relenting and lying still again. Her gaze shifted toward Alex, tears leaving tracks across her cheek bones.

"They won't tell me anything about Derrick," she said.

"He's still in surgery. My…partner is down there…he'll call when he knows anything."

Chelsea gave a non-committal "hmph" as if she had heard it from every doctor, nurse, or cop she had come across in the hours she had been brought in. She turned back to the point she was staring at earlier, while Alex looked down at her lap, smoothing her palms along her thighs, and thought about sitting next to Joe's hospital bed and then Bobby's after they got him out of Tates. She listened to the steady beep of the monitor just like she had done in those other times, letting it count the long minutes and odd thoughts that passed – _how do I let him go, what do I tell his mother…she can't stand me anyway; why does this feel so similar, why does he do this to himself_. After a while a shriller beep interrupted and Alex pulled her phone from her pocket to see a text from Bobby about Derrick.

She looked up at Chelsea, who now stared back at her expectantly.

"Derrick's going to be okay. They'll be moving him up here in an hour or so."

Chelsea nodded.

"Does he know…about the baby?"

"He probably hasn't been conscience long enough for anyone to tell him."

Alex listened to her ragged breath and watched her try to chew on her lip, but then wince from the cut there. She glanced down and then picked at some fraying spot on the blanket covering her.

"She was alive when she came out," Chelsea said. "She was alive for two minutes before…before her lungs failed…"

The words startled Alex and she wished she had something comforting to say, something that could put it all in perspective, but she knew as well (if not better) as anyone how useless and hollow those platitudes were.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Alex asked.

Chelsea shook her head and her face scrunched with the threat of sobbing cries.

"I don't know," she said. "There…there was a knock on the door…Derrick was in the living room and I was in the kitchen…I heard him open it and then he cursed. When I came out he was pushing against the door trying to keep them out, but then these two big guys came in...

"Derrick yelled at me to run and I tried to get to the fire escape in the bedroom, but one of the guys grabbed me and pulled me back into the living room. Derrick was trying to reason with her—"

"Her?"

The voice came from behind Alex and she knew it was Bobby before she saw his figure shuffle up beside her place in the chair. His eyes stayed on Chelsea, not deferring to her at all like he usually would.

"I think she was the only one Derrick knew," Chelsea said.

"Did he call her by name?" Bobby asked.

Chelsea nodded.

"Kelly…I knew she was the ex he had told me about…but I'd never seen her before. How could he ever have..."

She huffed, shaking her head and Alex could see her battling the anger and resentment bubbling up – _how could he have trusted someone like that? Respect someone who was capable at of something so vile? _Alex knew those feeling – was too good at hanging on to them and had silently asked the questions over and over again about Declan Gage. _How could he put more trust in him than me?_

"What happened once both of you were in the living room?" Bobby asked.

"Uh…she told the guys to hold Derrick and then she came after me…I tried to keep my back to her, but she kept rolling me over…and she just kept hitting and kicking until I stopped moving…"

"Did she shoot Derrick?" Alex asked.

"I didn't see…"

"If you saw them again do you think you could identify them?" Bobby asked.

Chelsea shrugged.

"Kelly definitely…the guys…I don't know…maybe…" Chelsea said. "Is Derrick really okay?"

Bobby moved closer to the bed, blocking part of Alex's view, but she could see him rest a hand on Chelsea's arm.

"I saw him when he came out of surgery...it'll take time, but he'll be fine," he said.

Alex focused her eyes on him, softening at his compassion and tenderness, and could feel her annoyance give way to fear. She didn't want to have feelings for him; didn't want to be tethered to his life, but it was too late she already was – had been for longer than she realized.

"We'll get her for this," he said. "I promise you that."

Chelsea whimpered a disbelieving sigh, but turned her hand over and clutched his forearm, grasping for some sort of emotional purchase. Alex could have used some herself.

XXXX

Alex kept her arms crossed in front of her as they rode the elevator toward the ground floor of the hospital. Bobby was silently rocking on the balls of his feet beside her; hands stuffed into pockets and eyes on the floor. She felt shaky, like the little world she built over the last ten years was quickly crumbling beneath her and everything was about to change. She could feel it – titled and scared shitless. She thought herself pretty good at adapting to new situations – hell she adapted to working with Bobby Goren, which was no easy feat, but there were things…people…she had a hard time letting go of.

It was time to move on from so many things, people (person) – she got that, but she just didn't know what Bobby's role in that was or if he even had one; if she could open herself to that and crush down the panic rising in her chest.

"I'm taking the job," she said.

She listened to his sigh, while he kept his head down.

"I know."

_That's all you have to say!_ She wanted to scream it; wanted some reaction from him instead of this silent, petulant child bullshit. She wanted him to fight her, to challenge her…something…anything, so she at least had some inkling he'd be okay one way or another.

"What exactly were you expecting from this?" she asked.

Her vice was louder than she intended, and with more of a quake than she was comfortable with. He stared up at the ceiling for the moment, searching for something – time she figured or a way to take it back. He almost looked down at her, but shifted his gaze to the side.

"I wasn't…" he said. "I just…I thought I saw something, but…I guess I was wrong. It doesn't matter."

"It doesn't matter?" she asked, frustrated and scared. "So that's way I'm getting this silent treatment? Because it doesn't matter?"

"What am I supposed to say?" he asked.

She could tell he was getting angry too as his voice rose and he finally looked at her. His eyes flared with guilt and disappointment and want and maybe a little fear. She could hear his inhale of breath and then watched him step back, trying to calm down.

"Look, I…" he huffed. "…maybe it's time for us move on…both of us," he said.

"What does that mean?"

"I…I don't know yet," he said.

"You mean something."

She felt a new fear creeping in – a fear of him just walking away. It could have been a relief, an out from the all the mixed up and fucked up feelings between the two, but some how that was just as scary as having all of him.

"Look, we need to talk to Ross and Cabot and get a warrant for Kelly," he said.

It was an easy deflection, one she would usually use, but she knew he was right. This case had gotten uglier and more painful than she expected and part of her would rather argue the points of their would-be relationship than focus on how these people's lives had just been crushed.

"Fine," she said.

It was anything but fine. She wanted solid ground again, a simple case, a partner who was just that, and the sweet safety of denial; of ignorance. She imagined at this point he'd take it back if he could, but he couldn't. Things were different and they were going to keep moving; keep pushing them into new lives with or without the other.


	8. Chapter 8

Sustaining What You Built

Chapter 8

He knew he didn't have the right to be angry and he tried to control it as he looked through the two-way mirror at Kelly Donovan. He had said his piece and knew there was a risk of rejection, but the thing that pissed him off was he knew it wasn't really lack of want but fear making her run the other way. If he could find the balls to admit it, why couldn't she? He knew why – of course he knew why. She had lost too much before and couldn't do it again. He was trying to let it go, so at least then maybe they could some how keep in touch, be friends that met up every now and then. Maybe going their separate ways would be best; maybe they'd even find each other again. He thought about something a priest said to him when he was kid and he had asked for help with this mother – _you just have to give it to God, Robert_. He hadn't readily accepted that then and he doubted he would now.

He shifted his thoughts of Eames down and focused on his guilt for what had happened to Chelsea and Derrick (of course they were all mixed up anyway). He had put them at risk, but he hadn't expected Cullen or Kelly to move this fast or he had just been too distracted to realize. Maybe Cullen didn't even have anything to do with this, but just Kelly, finally taking her rage out on the person who betrayed her; left for someone she hated. And now these people's lives would never be the same. He wondered if Chelsea could ever forgive Derrick for pulling her into this; if they could ever come back from this sort of loss. Statistically, he knew it was unlikely, but a part of him needed to believe it was possible.

Cabot shifted beside him and looked to be studying the lawyer in with Kelly more than Kelly. Alex was on the other side of Cabot and lifted her head and caught his eyes. He could see she was hurt, maybe a little by him, but he also knew kids got to her because she knew how hard they could be to get.

"I want to sit in the interrogation with you," Cabot said.

"Fine with me," Alex said. "The more hands to throw the book at her the better."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Cabot said.

Alex crossed her arms over chest and her forehead crinkle in anticipation of something she wasn't going to like. Bobby felt it too – the nudge, pushing them aside to a catch bigger fish.

"We have a stronger case against Ms. Donovan than we do Jason Riley for the Bartlett shootings," Cabot said. "If she's willing—"

"You're going to make a deal with her?" Alex asked.

Her voice was coarse and aggravated with emotion. Her typically cool façade fading with the pain she felt for Chelsea and that baby. He gathered his behavior wasn't helping any either. A part of him almost took comfort in her outrage because at least they were on the same page about something, but another always felt uncertain when it was her cracks showing and not his. The fact that they were already off kilter just made it worse.

"If she has anything to give us on Jason then, yes," Cabot said. "I'll drop the murder charge to man one, but the first degree assault charge stays."

"She had every intention of killing that baby," Alex said.

"And Riley intentionally killed two people and potentially could have harmed countless others. We have leverage here and I'm positive she'll save her own ass," Cabot said.

Bobby listened; ready to jump in, but then another detective stepped into the observation room and passed him a fax. It was from CSU about the bullet fished out of Derrick. His brow jumped as a plan clicked into place and he turned to the two women.

"Well, what if Jason gives up Kelly?" Bobby asked.

Alex and Cabot turned to him, both looking skeptical and annoyed.

"And what makes you think he would?" Cabot asked.

"Like you said…she'll save her own ass," Bobby said.

He passed the fax to Cabot, who instantly looked down. He felt Alex's eyes lingering on him and he couldn't stop himself from meeting them. They were questioning and still a little angry, but then she looked down, over Cabot's arm to read the fax. She looked back up at him and he knew she was with him; knew where he was leading. God, he was going to miss that look; miss not having to explain his every thought and idea.

"I don't see how this is going to urge him to talk...if anything it helps his case," Cabot said.

"Not if he thinks she'll betray him," Bobby said.

"And why would he think that?" Cabot said.

"Well, because you're going to offer her a deal," Bobby said. "And he's going to see it."

He took in Cabot's wary, nervous face about where this was leading and warring with herself whether or not to pull the plug on what he was suggesting. She sighed, resignedly.

"Okay, go get Riley from Central Booking. We'll let Kelly sweat till then," Cabot said. "But if this back-fires it's your ass not mine."

"I think we can live with that," Alex said. "I'll go make the call."

Bobby nodded and watched Alex slip out of the observation room. He felt the urge to follow her, but figured there was no point. They'd get the job done and then…he didn't know, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to be here working with someone else – someone who wouldn't get it, which would only make his increasingly awkward place in the NYPD even more so. He would have no advocate and he hadn't realized how much he had taken that for granted.

XXXX

Bobby rubbed his hands together as he waited outside for the officers to deliver Jason to him. He knew they didn't have much time to play around, since he was certain Kelly would refused to talk if she felt like her time was being wasted. Alex and Cabot we're with her now stalling with booking forms while they waited for Jason to arrive.

The squad car pulled up within twenty minutes of him standing out there and two officers began pulling Jason out of the back. He was in his prison issue jumpsuit with hands cuffed in the front, limply letting them drag him out, but making sure it wasn't easy for them. Bobby pressed the record button on the device inside his jacket pocket and then stepped in to grasp Jason's arm.

"I got it from here," he said. "Thanks."

Bobby steered Jason into the main lobby and then towards the elevator, keeping hold of his arm the whole time. Jason stared blankly out, seemingly indifferent and definitely stubborn, but he constantly gnawed on his bottom lip. He really was just a scared, messed up kid. Bobby hoped whatever time he got for these murders would help him see what he had done; see the lies that had been fed to him and maybe reconcile with his brother.

Once on the eleventh floor, Bobby took him into the observation room, releasing him and closing the door behind them. Jason's eyes roamed over the room, focusing on the poster and books along the opposite wall with a defiant smirk

"You think a change of scenery's going to get me to talk—"

His voice dropped as he caught sight of the window looking into the interrogation room where Eames and Cabot sat with Kelly. He stepped closer to the mirror and then glanced over at Bobby with a look mixing with anger and panic.

"What the hell is she doing here?" Jason asked.

"Well, she…she hurt your brother and his wife. Murdered your niece," Bobby said.

"That thing wasn't my niece," Jason said. "Why did you bring me here?"

Bobby stepped closer to him and looked into the observation room.

"Well, I thought maybe you could help—"

"I don't know anything," Jason said. "And I'm not a rat."

Bobby nodded.

"What about her? I mean she's never done jail time…but she's been involved in things. You think she'll sacrifice herself to save you?"

"We don't turn on our own," Jason said.

Bobby took him in, feeling sorry for him and wanting him to understand what he'd done and the lies people had told him. Bobby turned back to the glass and then slammed his hand against the speaker box, turning it on and signaling Eames to start.

"Then you won't mind testing that theory," Bobby said.

He watched Eames shift in her seat and opened the manila folder in front of her, pulling out the ballistics report and photos.

"Okay, sorry about how long this took. We've been having some computer problems, so we've had to re-do this by hand," Eames said.

"Right," Kelly almost laughed.

"The charges have been explained to you?" Alex asked.

"I don't have to talk to you," Kelly said.

"You're right. You don't," Alex said. "We just have an amendment to add to the charges that we need to explain to you—"

"Bullshit charges," Kelly said.

Bobby watched Alex shake her head, while Kelly's lawyer laid a hand on her arm, trying to quiet her. Jason shifted beside him, worry and concern for Kelly replacing the indifference.

"Three counts of murder don't sound like bullshit to me," Alex said.

"And who exactly did I kill?" Kelly asked against her lawyers whispers.

There was something hopeful and challenging in her eyes. Maybe she thought Derrick or Chelsea had succumbed to their injuries and it made her look triumphant.

"Well, there's the baby who was inside Chelsea Riley. She lived for two minutes and that means we can charge you with murder…and since both of your other victims can identify you as Chelsea's attacker there's no way a jury won't convict. And now we are also charging you in relation to the Bartlett shooting," Alex said.

"What? That's laughable."

"No, see, the same gun that shot Derrick, killed the Bartletts, so either you were involved with their shooting too or you helped whoever did kill them," Alex said.

Jason shook his head, staring intently at Kelly.

"You have to stop this," Jason said. "She didn't kill them…"

"Yeah we know that," Bobby said.

"Then why…"

Bobby could see the panic overtaking him and the school-boy crush he obviously had on his older brother's girlfriend. He was desperate, willing and ready to save her and sacrifice himself.

"Because she can give you up to us…that is unless you give her up first," Bobby said. "She gave you the gun didn't she? She told you about the Bartletts the same time she told you about Derrick. That's who she really wanted you to kill—"

"No! I—"

"Ms. Donavon we don't really think you pulled the trigger," Cabot's voice came through the speaker. "But you can tell us who did."

"What are you offering?" her lawyer asked.

"We'll drop the murder charges in exchange for her testimony against Jason Riley," Cabot said.

"You gave him the gun didn't you?" Eames asked.

Kelly looked down at the table, her confident exterior chipping away at the realization of how she had fucked up – how she had let her emotions get the best of her. Bobby saw it wouldn't take much for her to walk away from this and never give Jason a second thought because it was never about him or the Bartletts, but Derrick. Jason's eyes stayed on her, as if maybe she could see him pleading through the glass; wanting someone to stay by him – to not leave him adrift and alone like his brother had and his mother.

"You see that?" Bobby asked. "How she has to think about it? What if it was Derrick in here instead of you? Do you think she'd hesitate then? She still loves him…that's why all this happened…"

Jason shook his head.

"You don't know us. We're family…you don't turn on family," Jason said.

"Anytime, Ms. Donavon," Cabot said. "This deal ends the second we walk out that door and then Jason's lawyer will be able to argue that you shot the Bartletts and he will walk."

"If that works for you, then it works for us too," Alex said.

Kelly's lawyer leaned in, whispering into her ear, accentuating his point with jabbing a finger into the air. Kelly looked up to Cabot and Eames as her lawyer straightened in his seat.

"I didn't give him the gun," Kelly said. "He took it."

Jason's face went from a flash of hope to a crumpled mess of panic and betrayal.

"I saw Derrick at the clinic where I worked with that…woman…I told Jason about them. He was pissed…"

"And the Bartletts?" Alex asked.

"I may have mentioned them," Kelly said.

"How did you get the gun back?"

"He brought it to me…told me what he did. So I called Dan and we stashed Jason at his place," Kelly said.

Jason shook his head, tears filling his eyes. Bobby looked down at him, shifting and lowering himself, softening his tone and stance.

"She's lying, isn't she?" Bobby said. "This is your one chance to tell us what happened."

"Why would she…"

"Because she doesn't care about you…she's not your family…" Bobby said. "What happened?"

Jason brought his hands up, rubbing at his eyes and erased the soft, sad look with a hard and angry stare.

"She told me about Derrick, but she gave me the gun. Told me I knew what had to be done…" Derrick said.

"Why did you go after the Bartletts?"

"That same night…she showed me articles about them on the internet…told me they deserved it as much as Derrick…that they would make the police ignore Derrick's death…and they wouldn't trace it back to us."

Bobby huffed, shifting.

"She told me everything would be fine…" Jason said, and then turned his eyes to Kelly and his jaw clinched. "You promised me!"

Jason lurched towards the glass, hands raised, and made a clanking sound against the glass as the chains made contact with the glass. Bobby wrapped his arm around his waist pulling him away.

"A little help in here!" Bobby called.

Two uniforms came in and dragged Jason out, leaving Bobby to take in a deep breath to settle himself. After a second he remembered the tape recorder and pulled it out of his pocket, stopping the tape. He let out a breath and then headed to the interrogation room.

All eyes swung to him as he entered and he held the tape recorder up, looking at Kelly.

"Kelly Donavon, you're under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder," Bobby said.

"What? No, you told me the murder charges would be dropped," Kelly said.

"What the hell are you playing at detective?" the lawyer asked.

"Jason gave you up," Bobby said. "He's not going to be under your thumb anymore."

He rewound the tape just a bit and then hit play. _…she showed me articles about them on the internet…told me they deserved it as much as Derrick._

He stopped the tape and waved two more uniforms in, who lifted and cuffed Kelly.

"You're going to take his word? It doesn't prove anything…just that he's saving his own ass," she said as she steered her toward the door.

"Maybe," Bobby said. "But then why did he admit to the murders?"

The cops pulled her out as she let out a growl and kicked at Bobby, barely missing him as she was pulled out into the hall. Her lawyer followed close behind while they took her to the holding cell.

Bobby shifted his eyes to see Cabot and Eames quietly gathering their papers as they stood over the table. Cabot passed by first with a small nod to Bobby and then left them. He stepped further into the room, watching Eames as she straightened and met his gaze. She didn't linger, but moved toward the door.

"Eames."

She turned, her mouth twisted a little in frustration and exasperation.

"I…I'm sorry," he said softly.

He couldn't say anymore – couldn't specify, even though it was right there ready to be said, but he just couldn't bring himself to. He was still angry enough not to give her what she wanted to hear – the _I shouldn't have put you in that position. It wasn't fair to throw all of that at you_. He didn't want to give her an out as much as he knew she wanted one.

She nodded after a minute and then left him there. He followed a few minutes later to help with the paperwork.

XXXX

He got home later than necessary, going by the hospital to see Derrick and to give him the news on everything. He was broken and angry laying there with tubes and seething over everything that had gotten taken from him; mourning for his lost daughter and the wife he was sure he had lost.

"She's not going to forgive me," he had said.

"You can't be sure of that," Bobby said in reply. "She loves you…she was worried about you. You can come back from this…"

"Maybe…"

"How the fuck did this happen?" Derrick asked. "You said…"

Bobby didn't know how to answer him. He knew Kelly and her guys had slipped in through another apartment from an ally the squad car didn't have eyes on, but he was sure Derrick didn't want that explanation. He wouldn't if it was him.

Derrick didn't say anything else, turning his head away and ignoring Bobby. Bobby finally left, driving home while thinking about Eames and how a life can change so easily; about his future and what he wanted at this point in his life. Maybe he could start over somewhere and get over her – maybe even prove her right: that these feelings were just misconstrued because of all the time they've spent together and all the shit they've watched the other go through. A part of him knew it was a lie, but maybe it was one he could learn to live with.

A little while after getting home – after debating with himself as far as what to do and a couple glasses of scotch, he picked up his phone and went to his desk to fish out a number from his address book. He sat at the desk chair leaning forward as he dialed and then stuck the phone to his ear.

"Yeah, Carter," the man answered after several rings.

"Hey, Phil. It's Bobby Goren."

"Goren? What's going on?"

"I…uh…I was wondering if your offer still stood?"

Silence.

"You call at eleven at night to ask me for a job? What? Did you get booted out?" Carter asked in a joking tone.

"Come on, man…is it available or not?"

"Well not the place on my team, but there's this one position…mostly teaching and working with newer agents," Carter said. "I thought you didn't want to leave New York…"

Bobby nodded to himself, not sure if he did or not; wondering if he was being too impulsive. He had enjoyed getting away from New York when he was in the army, but it was still home and still a little unnerving to think of up and leaving…well really leaving _her_.

"I don't have much keeping me here. I…I think I'm ready for a change," Bobby said.

"Okay…I can call my bosses if you want…try and set up an interview."

Bobby looked down, his foot twitching and his neck bouncing back and forth as he decided to take the leap.

"Yeah, do what you can."


	9. Chapter 9

**a/n:** This is the end. I hope this ending works for people…it actually isn't at all what I pictured the end being when I started writing this like a year ago, but hopefully once I can get my muse back onto this storyline there will be a sequel and who knows what will happen between G & E then.

Sustaining What You Built

Chapter 9

The two weeks following Kelly Donovan's arrest were quiet, even if tense, while Alex prepared to leave Major Case. She and Bobby hadn't really talked besides typical, daily niceties or things like, "do you have the Larkin blood report?" She didn't want to leave their…relationship without some resolution, but they didn't exactly know what else to do. She was good at ignoring things. Pretending they were simple when they were anything but, and apparently so was he.

The day before her last, just before it was time to go home, she silently watched Bobby get up from his desk and go into the captain's office. He closed the door behind him and sat down for the longest and seemingly most civil conversation she had ever seen the two men have. There was even a friendly handshake before Bobby walked back out and to his desk. He didn't sit down, but gathered his things and gave her a quick look. He faltered, looking away again and acted as if he was ready to leave, but then hesitated like he wanted to say something beyond the typical heave and hoe of avoidance.

"I…I'll see you tomorrow Eames," was what he said instead before finally turning on his heel to walk off to the elevator.

She stared after him even after his form had disappeared around the corner and wondered what he and Ross could have been talking about; if he was still angry with her; if he was going to completely cut her out of his life. Of course, what place did she really have in it anyway? She had thought about that a lot since…well, she didn't really know. Since their last conversation at the bar wasn't really the truth – it had just put the thought up front in her mind, but several things had done that over the years: waiting for his reaction about her new partner request, hanging from a hook in basement, Tates, aiming a gun at his heart, and even God damned Declan Gage.

She finished up her reports and then headed out; trying to squash down any feelings she might or might not have. She went to her sister's for dinner and watched her nephew shovel mash potatoes in between explanations of his day in kindergarten. He was enthusiastic, but coy – _a flirt_ as his grandmother said – impressing her with counting to twenty and getting through the ABC's with only a couple mishaps. Alex couldn't help but smile and ruffle his hair as he playfully leaned into her.

Later, Mark took Nathan upstairs to get ready for bed, leaving Alex and Liz at the kitchen table drinking tea. Alex could feel her sister watching her even though she stared into her tea, hoping the chamomile and peppermint would calm her mind and her nerves over her last day at Major Case and what might be her last day with Bobby Goren.

"I hear Jeff finally pinned you down for coffee," Liz said.

Alex looked up and gave a little nod. They had met two mornings ago in between him heading home and her going in to work. She tried to be engaged; tried to flirt back and respond to his sweet, humorous charm, but he could tell she was distracted and even brought it up. She told him it was just nerves over the new job, which was at least partly true.

"What? Is he calling you with updates?" Alex said.

"No. He mentioned it to Mark…he told me," Liz said. "So…how did it go?"

Alex shrugged unsure how to answer. She couldn't exactly say, "great, except for the fact I was thinking about my partner the whole time and whether or not I should have even been there."

"Fine," Alex said.

"He said you seemed upset about something," Liz said.

Liz stared her down, expecting some explanation, but all Alex gave her was a vague, "whatever" gesture with her hands.

"I've had a lot on my mind with the new job and everything," Alex said.

"But you're excited about the job, right?"

"Sure…but it's a lot to leave behind too…"

"MmmHmm," Liz hummed, unconvinced. "How did Goren take the news?"

"He…uh…he said I deserved it…told me I should take it."

"That's good right? That should make it easier to leave…"

Alex let out a sad laugh, wishing it was that simple.

"Yeah, it's great," Alex said.

If great meant he was barely talking to her or how she knew he was hurt and didn't know any other way to avoid more hurt. Or that he wanted more of a personal relationship and the thought made her heart palpitate and her ears ring with panic. It was the panic that got to her, because it wasn't just out of fear of having to let him down since she didn't feel the same, but because she maybe did.

"You sound very convincing, Lex," Liz said.

"Can we just drop it?"

"I don't even know what it is we're dropping," Liz said. "I do know if you aren't interested in Jeff then you should walk away. He's a nice guy don't lead him on—"

"You're the one who threw me at him."

"And I'm also the one who can call bullshit on you…and something's going on here. And I'd put money on the fact it has to do with Goren."

Alex often thought Liz had missed her calling by not going into the family business of the NYPD. She could spot lies with the best of them and when it came to Alex she was one on the few people who could actually see through all the stoicism and road blocks she put in place over the years. Even one of the NYPD's best profilers, who worked beside her everyday couldn't read her like Liz could.

Alex huffed and twisted her mouth up in aggravation and uncertainty. She needed to tell someone and she couldn't tell Bobby or the few close cop-buddies she had – they all thought it was well past time for her to kick Goren to the curb anyway.

"He…Bobby, he said," Alex said and then took in a deep breath. "He told me he had feelings for me…that maybe we could…explore that if I took the job…"

Liz's face was unreadable, but she kept her eyes trained on Alex. Alex was trying to keep her face neutral, but she was sure Liz could see it – the fear, the feelings that could be similar, but that she didn't want to admit.

"Well, it's about damn time," Liz finally said.

"What the hell does that mean?" Alex asked.

She refused to believe she and Bobby were that transparent.

"Come on, Lex," Liz said. "I knew the moment I saw him at the hospital with you—"

"That…that was guilt. Over the…the Gages."

"I don't mean then," Liz said. "I mean after Nate was born."

Alex huffed out a dismissive sigh and shook her head. There were logical explanations to anything she might have read between her and Bobby; explanations that would dismiss anything Alex knew she was about to argue.

"He's my partner…he was concerned," she said and let out a little laugh. "He wanted to make sure I was coming back…as soon as possible."

Liz shook her head.

"It was more than that. Maybe he didn't know it…maybe he didn't even really acknowledge it yet, but if Mark was a cop and looked at a female partner the way Goren looked at you…I'd be worried."

"Look, you're not a cop. You don't understand what goes on between partners…it's a lot like a marriage, but it doesn't mean anything—"

"Sure, not all the time. Maybe even most of the time, but with you two it does. I don't care how much you try to convince me otherwise."

Alex fell back in her chair, angry and annoyed, and she didn't want to admit it was mostly toward herself and not her sister – not even Bobby.

"Do you love him?" Liz asked.

Alex picked at a hang nail and shook her head.

"No. I…" she said. "I don't know."

She stared down at the table, still picking and knew he had been right – he wasn't the one who was confused.

"Well, there's only so many ways to figure that out," Liz said.

Alex wasn't sure if it could be figured out – if all the shit and feelings and experiences could be untwisted and redefined.

"I'm going home," Alex said.

She pushed herself up from the table and placed her cup in the sink, listening to Liz's apologetic protests behind her. She muttered how it was all right and gave her sister a quick hug before heading home to her apartment.

XXXX

The next morning welcomed her with handshakes and pats on the back from her soon to be former squad-mates, giving her "way to goes" and "we'll miss yous." They came from everyone – Jefferies, a very pregnant Wheeler, Nichols, who was mostly still a stranger, and even Rodgers, in between cake and cider breaks, neither of which anyone was admitting to bringing. They all came and went through out the day as did the celebration.

Bobby stayed quiet, in the background of the people crowding and congratulating her, but she could feel him watching her from time to time and even caught him a couple times. Those few times he gave her a tight smile and turned back to whatever he had been doing.

There wasn't much for her to do besides clean up her open case files for whoever would be taking her place and sign paperwork on closed cases. It left her mind to wander, mostly about the man across from her and the conversation with her sister – contemplate all the questions in her head. Did she love him? Maybe. Would she miss him? Yes. Did she still want to be a part of his life; his friend? Yes, but she'd tried to be his friend before and what did it get her – a bunch of ignored phone calls and lies all to get his badge back. Could they even make a romantic relationship work? And even if they could, how quickly would he lose interest and realize she wasn't what he wanted? Or even yet, what if he never did?

She escaped to the break room to find some clarity in the store bought chocolate cake and cut a moderate square for her plate, sucking the excess icing from her thumb. She stood at the counter and slowly ate.

"Eames."

It was the captain's voice greeting her and she looked up to see him strolling towards her with his hands stuffed in his pockets. She nodded a hello.

"This was very nice of everyone," she said.

"We all chipped in," he said. "I just talked to Pertrillo. She wants you in her office at nine Monday morning to start looking for people to build your team."

"Will I actually get to build it?" Alex asked.

Ross smirked a little.

"I have no doubt you'll get a good team you can trust," he said.

She gave a stiff nod.

"Thank you for considering me," she said.

"I'm glad you took it," Ross said. "Have you set up some time to take the sergeant's exam, yet?"

"Yeah…next month. I guess it'll be really official then," she said.

"It's plenty official…the rank is just a formality to make the brass happy," Ross said. "You'll do great work there."

She was certain she would. She was even excited about it – getting back to her roots in the force and helping these young girls forced into brothels and prostitution. She knew she would be able to do real good, but it was still strange to think she would no longer be coming to the eleventh floor of One PP anymore.

"Uh…do you have any candidates for my replacement…for Goren's new partner?" Alex asked.

She heard Ross' sigh and watched how he cut his eyes away from her.

"That's…a non issue," Ross said. "Congratulations."

He disappeared then, leaving her to wonder what exactly that meant. She went back to her desk, while the pats and well wishes continued and her partner kept pretending he wasn't watching her.

XXXX

It was five o'clock when she began to gather her things, placing personal items from her desk into a small file box. Other detectives who were there came and told her good-bye and good luck. Wheeler even hugged her as she came by, thanking her for the few times they had grabbed dinner after a shift and listening to her complain about Nichols and worrying about the surprise pregnancy.

"Seriously, if you need anything call," Alex said.

Wheeler smiled and walked on, leaving her to her desk and her partner, who was openly watching her as she closed the lid on the box. It was surreal to think after nearly ten years of seeing each other everyday now she might not ever see him. Her throat tighten then and she pushed down the tears she felt building.

"Walk me out?" she asked.

She almost thought he was going to refuse – make some excuse about having to finish paperwork or something else they both knew she would recognize as a lie. But then he nodded slowly and closed the files on his desk as if he was not planning on coming back. She led the way to the elevators and glanced backwards to make sure he was in fact with her as they stepped on. He was quiet and mostly still, watching the numbers scroll down to the garage.

She tried to figure out what she wanted to say to him; what she wanted from him and if she was brave enough to take the leap; if she even wanted to be. They could just meet up every now and then, just to see if they could even sustain a friendship without the glue of the job holding them together and see where it went. No pressure, no pretense…just two former colleagues checking in on each other and if something grew out of it then so be it. She thought she could live with that – could maybe then sort out everything she felt and thought about this man beside her.

"I really do think you deserve this," he said.

She looked up at him, slightly startled, but the doors dinged opened and she continued to lead the way to her car.

"I know," she said. "I'll have my pick of team members apparently."

"That's good," he said. "You need people you can depend on…who can keep you…each other safe. I take it there will be undercovers…"

"Yeah…some," Alex said. "I'm not sure yet how it'll work…we'll probably be dependent on getting CI's…getting their trust…"

She watched him nod before gathering at her car. She placed the box in the back seat and then turned toward him.

"That'll…it'll be tough. These girls…they got a raw deal," he said. "But…they'll trust you…"

She nodded and he shuffled, getting too antsy to force small talk.

"Listen, we can try…to be friends and just—"

"We…I thought we were…" he said, quietly; void of anger and resentment. "I want more than that…"

_Friends_. Were they even friends? They last time she checked friends didn't avoid each other's calls when they're having a rough time or keep the other in the dark for the sake of their job. Friends didn't work only at one person's convenience and personal time table. She bit the inside of her cheek in an effort to bite down the bubbling resentment.

"I don't know if I can be that," she said. _Yet. Give me some time and then maybe…_

"I know," he said. "And…and its okay. You know, I had to see…for myself and it was a risk…its okay…"

He shuffled in classic Goren style, and glanced down at his feet or maybe hers. He didn't sound very convincing and any resentment gave way to guilt.

"Bobby—"

"I…I need to tell you…" he said, lifting his hands to interrupt her. "I'm leaving…I'm leaving Major Case…"

She stared numbly as he met her eyes, not sure if she heard right and thought about what Ross referred to as a non-issue. He wouldn't quit. Being a cop was his life – it was what got him up every morning, particularly the last few years.

"Oh?"

He let out a deep breath, looking sad, but oddly resolute.

"An old buddy of mine…from CID…he's FBI now and he's offered me positions there off and on for…for a while," he said. "I…I've decided to take one of them."

Alex stood still, silent and unsure as to how to respond. She hoped the change would be good for him; would add to the healing he had been doing over the last year – to move on from his family and all the perps and victims he carried around with him. She wanted to say it, but it all just caught on the lump in her throat and the tension zinging between them.

"You'll be at the field office here?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"Quantico," he said.

_Oh._

Her eyes widened and her throat tightened a little more. He certainly wouldn't leave New York. What about Donny? What about his life here? What about her? But she had no right to ask that. Not now.

"The job it's mostly working at the academy," he said. "I'll be working with younger agents training in profiling…there may be some field work…consulting work, but mostly I'll be…mentoring of all things."

She heard his little self-deprecating laugh and wanted to reassure him, support him because he was her partner (always sort of would be, she figured) and that was what they were supposed to do for each other despite everything else.

"They'll be lucky to have you," she said.

She was glad her voice didn't crack, or at least not enough for it to register, and he gave a small nod, with round, soft eyes looking like they might be on the verge of cracking. She sure as hell couldn't handle it if he cried.

"I hope so…" he said. "I…I think it'll be good…for me to go. I think I need…am ready for a fresh start."

She could understand that, even if she had never been all that great at starting over and letting the past go – good and bad. She needed to; was trying to, but it scared the shit out of her. She stuck with things, even if they weren't really good for her – it was what made her force herself to stay partners with Bobby nine years ago, before she actually _wanted_ to stay his partner and for that she was grateful. But then there was the other part of it that made her cling to a dead husband and the life she was _supposed_ to have.

"Take care of yourself, Eames."

She nodded, knowing they both needed to get out of there before one of them broke down.

"You too," she said.

His hands twisted together in the air and he almost stepped away, but then just stepped closer. She felt his palm span her neck and then the press of his lips against the crown of her head and the slight scratch of his stubble on her forehead. It was a quiet good-bye, a thank you, a _here if you need me_, and then he turned without warning and was gone. She watched him and let out a shaky breath as her eyes welled. He didn't look back and she didn't want him to. A few minutes later she was gone too.


End file.
